Cold Nights
by PaintingStars
Summary: Marjorie Poirier has always dreamed of becoming a composer. After the fateful night when the Opéra Populaire burns down, Marjorie forgets her dream. Now, two years later, she hears the haunting music once more drifting from the opera's catacombs. Will she once again get to follow her dream? Or will someone get in her way? ErikxOC. May become rated M later.
1. Chapter 1

_ She sat alone on the rooftops above her home. The faint yet astonishing sound of music floated out from the Opéra Populaire. Oh how she dreamed of one day being able to have her own shows be shown at the opera house, to see the beautiful dancing and singing paint the picture of the songs in her head. She was a dreamer. A foolish one at that. She knew that she would waste away over the hot ovens the rest of her life, but that never stopped her from being able to dream. _

When Marjorie Poirier was only 4 years old she wandered from her home and was found 3 miles away playing the piano in an old, rich woman's house. The woman had no clue who this little girl was but she was astonished at the little girl's ability to play. Although not exactly a prodigy, Marjorie could still play beautiful music coming directly from her mind. It was when she was 12 years old that she decided she wanted to become a composer. She had already read every music book she could find. She taught herself how to read notes and count measures. She found herself perfect for the job.

When Marjorie was 18 she had finally mustered up the courage to ask her parents for lessons at the Opera. She had heard very good things about Monsieur Reyer, the conductor, and the Opera was only across the square from her family's bakery. "Oh please, papa! Please let me take these lessons? This is my dream!" Marjorie looked at her father with pleading eyes, holding onto his hand with both of hers.

"I am sorry, ma petite. We need you in the bakery. We cant afford to lose one of our best chefs." Marjorie's father tucked a blonde lock behind her ear. "And who else will make your lovely sugar rose petals dear? You know how popular your flowers are."

"I know papa...", she sighed and tugged on a loose string dangling off of her apron. "This has just been my dream forever, papa! I want to make people feel things. I want to make them fall in love with my creations."

"I know, ma petite. But right now all we need is for you to make people feel hungry." I smile played on his lips as he kissed her pale forehead. "Make them fall in love with your delicious sugar tarts."

He stood with a groan and took Marjorie's hand, pulling her up with him. "I am getting much too old. I'll need someone to take over my bakery when I'm gone. I will consider these lessons, if it is really what you want. Maybe I shall grant them to you for your birthday next month."

"Oh merci, papa! I promise I wont let you down with this!" Marjorie planted a kiss on her father's cheek.

The month quickly came and went and Marjorie found her birthday night creep upon her. She sat in front of her vanity and pulled her hair up onto her head. She secured the style with a rose shaped comb and sighed. Silently, her father came up behind her and secured a simple locket around her neck. "You look so much like your mother, ma petite. She would be so proud of you."

"Her necklace..." Marjorie whispered, stroking the small heart. "I miss her so much, papa. I feel like a storm cloud has rested upon me ever since she passed. As if the whole world is falling in a dark, sleepy spell."

"You are poetic, my child. I miss her every day. But today is your birthday. She would want it to be happy. Are you ready for me to escort you to dinner, ma petite?" Marjorie gazed in the mirror for a moment longer before taking her father's hand and standing. She smiled softly as her father led her down the small staircase into the dining room.

The table was covered with all of Marjorie's favorite foods. The table was overflowing with cheeses, fruits, and meats. In the center of the table rested the most lovely cake Marjorie had ever seen. A warm blush spread across her cheeks. Sitting around the table were her older brothers and her best friend, Lydia. "Oh my! Thank you all so much. This is so lovely."

"I have a present for you, ma petite. Close your eyes."

After doing so, an envelope was placed into her hands. Marjorie opened her eyes and raised a questioning eyebrow. Carefully opening the stiff envelope, she unfolded the letter. She read her father's scrawling handwriting: _Ma petite. You're the bird that sings in my heart. I realize now that I must open your cage and set you free. And because of this I have signed you up for lessons with Monsieur Reyer. Your lessons start tomorrow at 8 o'clock sharp. I am so proud of you, ma petite. Now it is your time to fly. With love, your papa._

Marjorie gasped and read the letter two more times over. "Oh papa..." she whispered, reading it once more. "Thank you! Oh thank you so much!" She flung her arms around her fathers neck and kissed his cheek. She couldn't believe it. Her dream was actually coming true. She would be a composer at the opera! She felt as if she could faint.

"I am glad you are happy, ma petite. Now, let's eat."


	2. Chapter 2

Marjorie sat upon the roof of the bakery. This was her hideaway. The party had ended and hour ago and the men had retired to her father's study for brandy. Lydia had to leave and now it was only Marjorie. She munched on an apple and waited for the opera to begin. From the roof, she could hear the music drift from the opera, and she often spent her nights listening. Closing her eyes, she let the cold night air sweep over her. "It's so relaxing up here." She though. "No loud, hot bakery. No rude customers. No worries."

Quietly at first, she heard the orchestra begin to play. She laid back on the ledge and let the music flow through her. This was her only escape, it seemed, from her otherwise dull life. She didn't have many friends to escape to. Only Lydia. But she was always busy with her suitor, Charles, or her dressmaking. That's why Marjorie liked to escape to her rooftop. The music she heard always seemed to inspire her. She wished she could stay here forever.

Listening to the music, she noticed something strange. It was so much different than the usual compositions! It sounded so dark and lustful. It was the most beautiful music she had ever heard. Somewhere inside her, she felt like a spark had been ignited. She felt her soul was aflame and being smothered by darkness all at once. She had never felt this way before. She folded her hands over her heart, feeling the fire flow through her veins. The music sounded so personal and longing. She had never experienced something so sensual. She vowed to meet the man who had written such a striking opera. She had to ask Monsieur Reyer his name. Oh, how excited she was for her lessons tomorrow!

Suddenly, the orchestra screeched to a stop and there were screams coming from the opera house. Marjorie sat up and raised an eyebrow. Soon, even more screams were heard along with the slight scent of smoke. "What has happened?" she asked herself. Then she saw the flames beginning to reach out of the shattering windows. Her mouth fell open with a small _pop_. The opera house was up in flames! Realization dawned on her when she say M. Reyer running from the marble steps, leaving a fluttering trail of musical scores behind him. She wouldn't have her lessons. There would be no opera house to have lessons at. She felt the tears begin to fill her eyes.

Hurriedly standing, she picked up her skirt and ran down the spiral stairs into the bakery. "The opera, papa! It's on fire!" she cried before shoving out of the bakery door. Running down the cobblestone street, she nearly fell over her feet. "Blasted boots!" she cried, nearly spraining her ankle.

Marjorie came to a stop in front of the opera. "Oh no... " she whispered, placing a hand on her mouth. She let the hot tears fall freely now. All she saw was flames in front of her. She began to pick up the few score sheets off of the ground. Don Juan Triumphant was blazoned across the top. Reading the notes, she realized it was the very opera played tonight. She slowly sat on the cold cobblestones and watched the flames envelop the opera house through her tears.

Familiar footsteps sounded behind her. "Ma petite," whispered her father, gazing at the huge building. "I am so sorry." He crouched down beside and wrapped his arms around her. "Come, my dear, let us go home. It has been a long night." He scooped her up like a child, and carried her home, letting her tears soak his jacket.

Marjorie never let go of the music sheets.


	3. Chapter 3

_Two years later..._

Marjorie wiped the sweat from her brow as she painstakingly iced the cake. "I cant stand this blasted heat!" Marjorie complained to no one in particular. Setting down the bag of icing, she rubbed her cramped hands and wiped her brow again. _Maybe there will be a breeze on the roof_, she pondered, untying her apron and swatting the dust off of her dress. As she passed the tall mirror in the hall she grimaced at her no longer small form. She glared at her somewhat protruding stomach, willing it to shrink. Ever since papa died, the only place she felt safe in was the bakery. Her piano sat dusty, and she only felt comfort in her sweets.

_Atleast my corset hides my belly...maybe a man will still love me and think I am thin if I lace my corset even tighter... _Marjorie mused, taking a bite of a tart she had grabbed before heading to the roof. She stopped and the sweet in her mouth felt like it turned to acid as she realized her blind eating. She tossed the tart towards the hungry pidgeons. _You are pitiful, you fat cow, _a voice scolded in the back of her mind.

_ Oh, how I wish papa and mother were still here. I would never be like this. Mother would hate it. It is so unladylike. _Tears brimmed in her eyes. Ever since papa passed, it seems like she never stopped crying. "Oh bother," she whimpered, wiping her eyes. "There I go crying again."

_What a child, it's no wonder no man has ever even courted you. _The voice hissed in the back of her mind. _A fat blubbering child! How disgraceful. Lovely Lydia was thin and beautiful. She's married and with child! And you're alone in your bakery, inhaling all of your sweets. Disgusting. That is why no man will ever love you._

Marjorie tuned out the voice's cruel words. An oddly familiar sound was pricking at her ears. She tried to focus on the sound. It was a deep and moving sound. It was music, an organ, she realized. "I dont remeber anyone around here owning an organ...and the church is much too far..." She looked around. A familiar tune began to fill her ears. It was the song she had heard the night the theater burnt, but it was different. It wasnt fiery and lustful. It was sad and empty, like dying embers.

She turned her eyes to the empty skeleton of the opera house. Yes, it was from there that the music was coming from. "I should go...I have nothing to lose." Marjorie hurried down from the roof and into her room. She grabbed a small lantern and a light cloak. Locking the backery's door behind her, Marjorie stepped out into the night.

She tried to keep her pace steady, but she was excited to meet this man. When she thought no one was looking, she broke into a run across the damp cobblestones, towards the looming shadow of the Opera Populaire.


	4. Chapter 4

Marjorie's boots clicked against the cool marble stairs leading to the theater's large doors. The lingering smell of burnt wood invaded her senses. It reminded her of winter, her favorite time of year. It amazed her that even after two years, the smell still remained. Taking a breath, she lit the small lantern and pulled open the doors, slipping inside.

Marjorie gasped when the room was illuminated. The once grand foyer was charred and black. The nude statues looked like demons clawing their way out of Hell. The marble stairs were crumbling and covered in ash. The once beautiful frescoes were cracking and blackened from smoke. The large velvet curtains laid in a pile on the floor. Marjorie had been to the opera house before. Her mother loved it. All that Marjorie could remember was the music and the grandeur architecture. Now, she felt like she was in a completely different place. It sent shivers down her spine.

Shaking the feeling, she listened for the organ music once more. It floated around her like a ghost and led her down the opera's east wing. She found it continued into a room with a large, ornate door. She pulled the heavy door open and gasped at what she saw. "Oh mon Dieu..." She whispered.

The room was left in perfect condition, as if the fire had never even touched it. The walls had a soft pink wallpaper that was speckled with tiny white roses. A large white vanity was against the wall and it was covered in ribbons and other girly things. Opposite to the vanity was a huge wardrobe brimming with all of the finest dresses. A wall of shoes wrapped around it. There was a plush Persian rug on the floor and a bouquet of fresh roses resting on the pink divan. "This must have been the Prima Donna room..." She mused. Walking to the divan, she stroked a petal of one of the blood red roses. "They're real!" she gasped, petting the cool, waxy flower.

A cool breeze at Marjorie's back made her turn. She followed a trail of glass shards to a large curtain hanging from the ceiling. Pulling it open, the damp breeze licked at her face. In front of her was the remains of a ceiling high mirror. Shards of glass crunched under her boots. Behind the mirror lay a dark corridor. She was glad she wore her cloak. "Bonjour?" she asked, holding the lantern into the thick darkness. "Hello?" she asked again. She received no reply but the skittering of mice and the distant organ music. Marjorie took one last glance at the Prima Donna room before descending into the darkness.

* * *

The darkness settled on Marjorie like a blanket. It was the darkest black she had ever seen. Her lantern had long died out and the only direction she found was the music. With her senses boosted, the music enveloped her wholly. She had began to tug on her locket and sing along softly with the familiar tune. She wasn't a very good singer, but she found comfort in the tune. After the fire, she studied every sheet, every note of the music she found. It became an obsession of hers. She had played it until her fingers felt like they would fall off. She found reassurance in it. But when papa passed away, she abandoned her music. There was no more composing and no more piano in her heart. It was locked away in a happier time. The bakery was her only life now. Her brothers were all married and no longer lived in her home. Marc, her favorite brother, often visited but Marjorie was the only one left to work in the bakery. She had to keep it alive like she wished she could have done for her father. _And that's why you'll be an old maid, _the voice whispered,_ you don't have time for love. Only the bakery and your sweet-eating habit._

The voice faded in her head as the tunnel opened to a large, winding lake. "An underground lake? How peculiar..." She murmured. Atleast, she assumed she was underground. The tunnel was always descending. There was a small dock perched out upon the lake, and tied to it was a small boat. Marjorie refused to take it though. She was terrified of water. Ever since her brothers had pushed her off of their father's boat and she nearly drowned, she couldn't even go in water deeper than her knees. The childhood memory played across her mind.

_It was a hot summer day off of the coast of Normandy. The salty air blew Marjorie's blonde waves all around her. Papa had stopped their boat so he could fish and so the boys could swim. Her mother was sitting on a blanket, reading. Marjorie loved her father's boat. She imagined she was a bird when standing on the bow of the boat. She would spread her arms out and imagine she was flying. It was her favorite feeling. _

_She walked towards the edge of the boat and looked over the side. She tried to search for some of the small fish, but she knew she would never see any. Behind her were three sneaky boys whispering and giggling as they snuck up on their sister. "Oh Marjorie! Wont you go for a swim?" Alexandre asked devilishly as the boys all grabbed at her. Marjorie let out a shriek as her brothers began to swing her over the water. As she fell into the water she swallowed a mouthful of water and began choking. Her shoes felt too heavy and she kept swallowing and choking on water. She struggled to stay afloat as she sank under the water. The once friendly ocean began to push and pull at her as she scrambled for a hold. The oxygen escaped in little bubbles and her lungs felt like they were about to explode. Marjorie couldn't hear her brother's cries as she sank deeper. Blackness overcame her as her body floated lower._

_When she began to come to, she felt her chest being pressed on. Suddenly she felt the water come flowing out of her lungs. She rolled over vomiting up the salt water. It came gushing out like from a faucet. It seemed like it would never end. When her lungs finally were empty and her vision cleared, she rolled on her back. Her father was leaning over her dripping with water and tears. "Ma petite." he smiled and laughed through his tears, cradling her face._

Ever since that day she became even closer to her father, although the fear had never left her. _Now you'll have no one to save you if you drown, _the voice cackled in the back of her head. Marjorie pushed the voice away once again. "Shut up..." She mumbled, rubbing her forehead in attempt to fade the memory and the voice's cruel words. _You can't hide from me, we are one. I am you just as much as you are me. _Marjorie shook her head and looked for another way around the lake. There was a small ledge branching off of the wall, across the lake. It was small, about the width of her foot.

"This may work..." Marjorie placed a foot on the ledge. It was slick and marble. "I can't walk on this...I'll fall... Marjorie looked around, but saw no other way but the boat. She blew a lock of hair out of her face and followed the candelabras that branched off of the wall. "Candlesticks! I could use them as handles on the ledge. Almost like monkey bars!" She laughed at the idea and stepped onto the ledge. _Candlesticks? What a preposterous idea. It will never work, you daft girl. _Marjorie ignored the rude words and began easing her way around the lake.


	5. Chapter 5

"Okay...You can do this, Mars...The water isn't too deep... I hope..." Marjorie glanced down at the water and shivered. Her knuckles were turning white as she clutched the candle holder. She slowly stepped around the sharp corner of the ledge, praying not to fall. _Don't slip, _the voice teased in the back of her mind. Marjories boots skidded slightly on the wet ledge and she clung to the candlestick with all of her might. After righting herself she continued down the ledge.

"I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why..." she sang shakily to herself, the organ's music bouncing around her, off of the cave's walls. The closer she drew to the music, the more beautiful and touching it felt. Her heart seemed to drag her towards the music. It seemed to grow endlessly louder with each step. Her heart was pounding in her ears with the excitement of finally meeting the music's master.

Passing under a large, curtained arch, a scene opened in front of Marjorie. Candlelight poured out across the water and over her body and the music had reached its full volume. Right off the lake was a room of sorts. The room was full of candles and the scent of the warm wax tickled her nose. There were books and paintings scattered about everywhere. And so many roses. In the center of ther room was the most beautiful and intricate organ Marjorie had ever seen. Sitting at the organ was a man, his long arms playing fluidly as if there was no differentiation between himself and the instrument. His music was ever so beautiful, yet sad and violent. She had never heard anything so real. It was obvious this man played from his heart.

She stared at the man in awe. This is the man she has so long dreamed of meeting. The man who lit her soul on fire. Who awoke her obession and pushed her past pain. This man was her drug she had missed for so long. Her fingers itched to play the tune that had been burnt into her every muscle. As the song reached it's climax, Marjorie's eyes fluttered closed as the music consumed her. It seemed to seep into every pore, pushing away her fears. It burnt away her sadness. The final notes filled her head, the notes she never knew, the pages she had never grabbed. She had dreamt of hearing them, never able to complete the masterpiece herself. She felt herself sway woozily as the music rushed over her like ocean waves. As the last note rang through the cavern, cold fire rushed down her spine. The feeling was indescribable. She had never in her life felt so relaxed, so at ease.

A loud creaking sound ripped her from her trance. The candelabra she was clutching onto gave one last groan as it tore from the wall. Hot wax splashed across her face as she lost her footing. A shreik exploded from her throat as she plummeted into the lake.

Her open mouth collected the flood of the dank water. It was freezing and pitch black. Her face was burning while the rest of her froze. She felt as if a million knives were stabbing into her every muscle. She flailed her arms, hoplessly struggling to find the ledge but her hands came back empty Her lungs were filling with the ice water and her muscles were tensing from the freezing water. Her body pleaded for oxygen, but there was none to come. She thought she heard the voice cackling as she lost grip on conciousness.


	6. Chapter 6

The boat rocked gently underneath her, the ocean air misting her face. The sun shone down on her and she gazed into her father's wet, smiling eyes. "Ma petite." he placed a hand on her damp cheek. She opened her mouth to speak but the only thing that came out was a sloshing sound. Her father's face fell into a frown as the scene playing in front of her began to turn dark. Her father faded away, grasping out towards her.

Marjorie felt the water pouring out of her lungs as she threw up the water on the marble floor. She was lying in an icy puddle on the even colder floor. Black spots riddled her vision. The water continued to pour out of her as she emptied herself. Every time she gasped for a breath, only more water poured out of her. When she was finally empty she fell onto her back. She felt a presence looming over her. "Papa?" she croaked out, her throat feeling like she gargled with steel wool. When her vision finally cleared, she found a man looming over her. She let out a painful yelp when she realized it wasn't her father.

_Of course it's not your father, you dimwit,_ the voice scolded. He's been dead for months. The man looming over her was definitely not her father. He was soaked, just as she was, and glaring at her,his eyes burning like hot coals. He was pale and handsome with dark hair and dangerously piercing blue eyes. Half of his face was covered by a stark white, porcelain mask.

"Why are you in my lair?" He growled, his voice harsh yet smooth. It reminded her of her father's whiskey she had once tasted. Marjorie just stared at him in awe. This must have been the man at the organ. The composer of that song. She felt her heart swell with admiration as she gazed at the man.

"I said," the man yanked her up by the collar of her dress, "why are you in my lair?" his voice leaked venom that spilled over Marjorie, causing her to shiver involuntarily. When he shook her shoulders, she jumped out of her daze. "Well?" he hissed.

"Monsieur...I-I..." her throat felt like it was being ripped out and she couldn't find any words. "I..."

"Spit it out." he shook her shoulders again. He stood far above her, at least a head taller. His eyes narrowed into a glare. "Who are you? Why are you here? What brought you here?"

"You're him, aren't you? From the night the opera burnt? You're the man who-" she was cut off by a growl that emanated from the man. He gripped her arms tight, cutting off their circulation.

"What? Did you come to see what lays behind the Phantom's mask? Did you come to see if the Phantom still roamed these halls? To torment me even further in my hell?"

"W-What? No! I-I-"

"What then?!" He growled furiously, his face mere inches from hers.

Marjorie just gaped at him, no words forming on her lips. Her mind had gone blank and she was shaking. _Speak you daft girl!_

"Get out. Just get out." the man shoved away from her, a darkness settling over his face. "Get out!"

"I-I came here for you." she gazed at the man. Beneath the fear she felt an inkling of pity. "I came to see who you were. I wanted-needed to know who you were. I-"

"Well you've seen me. Now go. Leave me." His back was turned and he was now hunched over the organ.

"I wanted to thank you, Monsieur."


	7. Chapter 7

"You...what?" His once harsh glare evolved into a dumbfounded expression.

"I wanted to thank you." She repeated carefully. She didn't want to upset this _Phantom_. His temper made her nervous, and honestly, it scared her a little. No one could here her down deep in these catacombs, and even if they could, it was too late at night. No one would be awake. She couldn't even escape if he chased her. The only ways out were the lake or the small ledge. Neither appealed to her after her little drowning stint.

"Why are you thanking me? What do I have for you to be grateful for?" his eyes narrowed suspiciously as he began to pace towards her. Uneasiness trickled through her veins. She felt like a caged animal. She glanced around nervously, searching for a possible escape route. Her eyes swung back to the man to find his empty ones awaiting hers. She cleared her throat and looked up at him.

"Well?" he asked.. His eyes were prying hers, and he stood his ground defensively.

"You saved me, for one, Monsieur." Quite a few times, she added to herself. "And for your music, Monsieur. That was your composition, was it not?"

The man stared at her blankly for what felt like an unending moment. His eyes seemed to dig deep into hers, searching. It made her feel uncomfortable but she stood tall, just like her mother would tell her to. _Standing proud won't do you much help if he decides to attack you. _Finally a flash of an emotion she could not identify fled across his face. "How do you know my music?" curiosity filled his voice and his eyes.

"I heard your music that night at the opera. It was as if an angel had written the very piece. It touched me, Monsieur." he flinched at the mention of that word. "Here." she said as she pulled folded paper out of her cloak pocket. The paper was damp from the lake and was obviously well read. The once thick parchment was now worn and softened by wear and the delicate notes had run slightly. Marjorie carefully unfolded the sheet music before holding them out for him to see. _The Point Of No Return_ was emblazoned across the top in beautiful handwriting. The man's eyes widened in disbelief at the sight, before narrowing darkly.

_"Where did you get that?!"_ his voice dropped and fell into a hiss. The room seemed to get ten degrees colder. He tore the pages out of her hand, ripping the weak paper in half. A gasp slipped from her throat as she was left with the other halves in her hand. He tore the rest of the now-ruined paper from her hands, the visible half of his face was red with anger.

_"Get out!" _his cobalt eyes were stone cold and seething with fury, _"Escape while I still let you!"_

**A/N: I am TERRIBLY sorry I wasn't able to post sooner and I am sorry for such a short chapter! I was having laptop problems and a ton of trouble with Erik's parts. So please tell me/forgive me if he is too OOC. I will probably upload another chapter later today or tomorrow afternoon. Thank you for all of the lovely reviews. Especially SaVrAiNoiR for mentioning me in her story (Twice!) It really means a lot to me. So PLEASE check out her lovely story, Echelon! I believe it's in my Favorite Stories on my page:) But thank you again for all of the reviews and follows!**


	8. Chapter 8

Eyes wide, Marjorie stumbled backwards, tripping on her boots. She fell hard to the floor but quickly scrambled up. The Phantom had turned away from her now, and his body was hunched over the organ, his shoulders rigid. "Leave."

Her eyes flew around the room, begging for an escape. She didn't want to find out what he meant by still letting her escape while she had the chance. Her eyes fell upon the black water, blood pulsing in her ears. She couldn't take it. Not after she already nearly drowned. And the ledge was useless. Since she pulled out the candlestick, there was no way to get to the next iron stand. A red curtain caught her eye. It seemed to lead to a small path that ran along beside the lake. She didn't know where it would lead her, but anything was better than the ice cold lake.

Her heart was pounding in her throat and her mind felt fuzzy. She darted towards the escape, fear filling her footsteps. Not too far down the path she heard a soft whimper. It echoed all around her, giving her no direction, but she knew it was the man. She turned to follow the sad sounds permeating from the lair.

Slowly, she made her way back towards the room. _You idiot! _The voice was shouting at her again. She jumped, worried as if the Phantom could hear it too._ He threatened to kill you! Why in God's name would you ever venture back there?! You imbecile! _She ignored the shouting within her head. It couldn't kill her curiosity. But that didn't mean her curiosity couldn't kill her. Carefully, her head peeked around the red curtain.

The man was no longer in his previously menacing position, but rather, he was crumpled like a wilted flower. His shoulders were slumped and his head hung. His back was turned to her, and in his hands were the ruined pieces of sheet music. They drooped sadly, just as he did. His hands gripped them tightly, crumpling them slightly. He brought the pages to his chest and his head fell lower.

A flash of white shone in Marjorie's eyes. In his hands were also his delicate porcelain mask. She longed to see what had lain behind it, but her boots felt nailed to the floor. She couldn't fathom why the man would want to wear the mask. What did he have to hide? She examined the mask in his hands. It was simple, yet it almost seemed normal. The features were somewhat dramatic, but they weren't distracting. The brow was tweaked up high, as were the cheekbones. It was quite the sight by its self, but when on it seemed fitting.

Her eyes continued to examine it when it was suddenly thrown. It flew into the wall and shattered into a pile on the floor. A ragged sob escaped the man's throat and his shoulders shook .He seemed so utterly broken. And she felt so invasive. She knew she shouldn't be there, watching this like some spectacle. She longed to comfort the man, but the fear of him was still instilled in her. This wasn't a phantom at all, she realized, he wasn't some powerful being. He was simply a man. Just like her brothers. Just like her father.

The man drooped forward, his elbows landing on the organ's keys while his head was resting in his hands. A frighteningly loud sound growled from the organ's pipes. The glue that held her feet down seemed to disappear and she broke into a run. The sound had frightened her and she just wanted to be home. Her boots smacked against the stone path and seemed to get louder as the organ ran out of air. A soft voice bounced off of the cold walls and seemed to chase her as she raced towards the surface. It made her blood run cold, but she couldn't stop running. The sound was the most heartbreaking thing she had ever heard. It made her ache although she didn't know why. The words continued through her mind, even when she was out of the building, It felt seared into her brain. The same words just wouldn't stop repeating.

"Christine, I love you."


	9. Chapter 9

Marjorie awoke to the Parisian sun flooding her bedroom. Her whole body ached, especially her chest. As she sat up, her muscles moaned in complaint. She pushed the covers off of herself and stretched. She loved Sundays. She didn't have to work and she could sleep in however much she wanted.

Swinging her legs over the bed, she was met with a pile of freezing, wet cloth under her feet. An unsuspecting shriek escaped her mouth as she hopped off of the soaked material. Picking the waterlogged gown up, memories from the previous night came flooding back to her. Images of the opera house, an icy lake, and a masked man danced in her mind. "It was real!" she gasped, sitting down at her small vanity._ Of course it was real, you dumb girl. Why else would you be aching like that? You nearly drowned. _

Gazing into the mirror, she frowned at the splashed of hardened wax upon her face. She had crawled into her bed immediately when she had gotten home from the opera house. She only stopped to discard her sopping dress. How could she not even remember the candle wax that had splashed upon her face? She picked the wax off gently, exposing unsightly burns that laid underneath. The burnt skin on her cheek was constantly being pulled as she picked the mess of wax away. Finally when the wax was gone, she placed a cool cloth on it to soothe the pain. The sudden coldness was painful on her burns. It hurt more than her sore lungs.

As she combed the tangles out of her hair, her mind drifted to the man. She didn't know what she expected when she first went to meet the man who composed the song that meant so much to her. But what she did know was that the man she met last night was not what she expected. Why was this man living in the opera house, much less the basement? Had he always lived there? And who was this Christine that seemed to pain him so badly? Thoughts and questions floated through her head as she wandered through the lonely house.

Marjorie eventually found herself sitting at her piano bench for the first time in months. Her poor piano was covered in a thick layer of dust. She couldn't even bear to touch it after Papa passed away. It was like all of the music that filled her soul had died along with her father. Now she found herself lifting the heavy cover off of the keys and gently, she wiped the layers of dust off of the worn ivory. Discarding the rag, she rested her hand upon the keys. Her eyes drifted closed, but she couldn't bring herself to play. After a minute, she pulled the heavy cover closed again. "Maybe tomorrow..." she promised herself. _But probably not_. The voice laughed at her. "I will!" she fought back, even though she knew the voice was right. But at least she had gotten somewhere with cleaning it.

Marjorie eventually made her way down to the bakery. It was her day off, but she still felt compelled to bake. She began to pull the ingredients out of the cupboard and let her mind slip into baking mode.

* * *

The evening began to fall upon Paris as Marjorie placed the last sugar rose upon the cake. It was beautiful, on of her best. The cake was white and covered with black piping. Placed on top were her famous blood-red sugar roses. She couldn't get this Phantom man out of her head the whole day and his lair inspired her decorating. She had to share the cake with him. At least as an apology.

His sad words still haunted her as she strolled down the street to the Opera Populaire. Whoever this Christine was, she must have really hurt him. That's why Marjorie decided to bring him the cake. Sweets helped her feel better when Papa died, maybe she could help this man cope with whatever demons he still held on to.

She hurried up the marble stairs and into the opera house once again. She walked past the blackened foyer and into the east wing. Standing before the Prima Donna room, she listened, waiting. The room remained silent. After another long moment, Marjorie pushed open the door and peeked in. The room was empty. Slowly, she entered the pastel room. She walked over to the vanity and set the cake down. She grabbed a piece of parchment from a drawer and began to write.

_Monsieur Phantom, _

_Please take this as an honest apology for invading your home last night. Your music seemed to draw me in and I couldn't seem to stop myself. Your music has gotten me through many of my troubles before, so I would like you to also take this as a thank you. I hope this will help you through whatever your troubles may be._

_ -Marjorie Poirier _

The letter felt childish after she finished it, but she still folded it and placed it next to the cake. She stood from her seat at the vanity and headed to the door. Just as she reached for the knob, a floorboard squeaked from behind her.


	10. Chapter 10

She tensed up before slowly turning around. It was the man, the Phantom. He was no longer pressed and pristine like he was the night before. There was stubble on his face and his suit -the one from the previous night- was rumpled and disheveled. He was looking at the cake. A pale hand emerged from his pocket and touched one of the roses. He plucked it from the cake and examined it. The silence felt deafening until his cracked voice finally broke it. "What is this?"

"A rose, monsieur, made of sugar." Her shoulders were tense as she watched him carefully. She was ready to run at any second. She didn't expect to see him here at all. He didn't seem like he would attack her but she was still nervous.

"You...baked this for me?" She nodded. "Why?" The man's voice was quiet, all of his anger from the previous night seemed drained completely. He looked up at her, his blue eyes rimmed in red. It was almost pitiful. In the fading daylight, she could finally get a good look at the man. He was terribly thin and his suit seemed a bit too large. He had deep brown hair that, along with his mask, illuminated the gauntness of his face. It looked as if he hadn't been eating very regularly. A small pang of pity ran through her veins.

"Its an apology for last night." Her voice was soft, as if comforting a child. A strange looked passed over his face. She took a step towards him. _What are you doing?! Get out of here, dumb girl! He practically tried to kill you! _She continued to walk closer until he took a small step back. She stopped immediately, about halfway across the room from him. The deafening silence fell across them again.

"Would you...Would you like to share this with me?" His eyes met hers as the uncomfortable silence stood between them.

"Why, I don't see why not.." A soft smile spread across her face. _**NO.**__ No, no no! Absolutely not! Follow him to his lair? Idiot! He'll kill you! Get out of here! NOW. _"Oh, shut up..." she mumbled to the voice. The man turned and stared at her peculiarly.

"What did yo-"

"Oh! Nothing, nothing at all!" A nervous laugh bubbled from her lips. She picked up the cake and smiled awkwardly. "Let's go." He continued to watch her as he led her through the mirror.

* * *

The man offered a gloved hand to assist her onto the boat. She eyed the glassy water nervously. He waited patiently for her, his hand outstretched. She took a breath and took his hand, stepping onto the boat. It wobbled underneath her and she sat quickly, placing the cake beside her. Her hands gripped the sides tightly and her knuckles paled. The Phantom hoped onto the boat lightly, not stirring it at all. He untied the boat and pushed off of the dock.

His eyes seemed to be constantly glued ahead, while Marjorie's were kept tightly shut. The voice continued to "lecture" and criticize her. She didn't even bother to fight it. _You dumb girl. Alone in a cave with a strange man. Your mother would be aghast. And think of your poor father! Watching his idiot daughter practically kill herself. At least no one alive would care. Why would they miss a stupid cow like you? Lydia doesn't even talk to you, and she has plenty of friends who could replace your burden. And your brothers could sell the bakery, making triple the profit you ever would. They're too busy with their loving wives anyway. And it's not like you have a suitor or anything. Even if you did, your death wouldn't break his heart. He'd probably find some beautiful, thin girl and marry her instantly. This man could kill you and no one would ever care. No one will hear your screams. He'll probably dump your body into the lake, where he should have left you last night. Maybe you'll end up being useful and feed some fish. _

The bumping of the boat against the dock jerked her from her mind. She pried her stiff hands from the side of the boat and grabbed the cake. Her clammy hands clenched the man's tightly as she stepped off of the boat. and walked up the marble stairs to the man's home. There was shredded canvas and paper everywhere. She tried not to stare, but she found it difficult. She looked back and found the man directly behind her. He cleared his throat and she realized she was blocking the way from the stairs. She quickly moved out of the way and gave him a slight smile. He lead her trough the mess of paper, kicking them out of the way. He pushed a curtain out of the way that led to a dark hallway and she followed him into a small sitting room.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Whoa, guys! I am SO sorry about my little disappearing act. It was definitely unintentional. I had a wicked case of writer's block and my laptop finally died on me. This chapter sucks really badly in my opinion, but it was fairly necessary I struggled with it a lot and I'll probably end up rewriting it. So I apologize in advance. But anyway, I would like to thank everyone who reviewed! They really keep me going and they mean a lot. So, without further ado, Chapter 11! **

Marjorie watched the Phantom's hands as he pushed his cake around on his plate. He had only taken a few bites of it. She had already eaten most of hers. He must never eat. That's probably why he is so thin. With his gaunt features and pale skin he could nearly pass as a skeleton. The bone white mask didn't help much either. She took a sip of her hot tea and sat up in her seat. The silence made her uncomfortable. She cleared her throat. "So," his gaze lifted to hers,"Tell me about yourself." _How original_, the voice scoffed.

His eyes watched her cautiously. "What is there to tell?"

"Plenty. Lets start simple, what's your name?" She found it strange that some man would go around calling himself Phantom. That couldn't possibly be his real name. That would be ridiculous.

"You may call me the Phantom." He took a small bite of the cake and watched her

"Phantom? That can't be your real name. I want your _actual _name, monsieur."

"You don't need to know my real name."

"That's sil-"

"I am not entitled to tell you anything about myself." His voice was cold and anger flickered in his eyes. But as soon as the outburst came, it was gone. He took another bite of his cake. "You are a wonderful chef." His manner had completely changed. His voice was gentle again and a small smile played at his lips.

Marjorie just stared at him, bewildered. What just happened? Wasn't he just angry at her? "Uh...thank you?" She continued to watch him carefully. "My father, well, I own a bakery. It's just up the street from here. You should stop in some time. I've been told I-"

"No."

"No?"

"No." He stood from his chair and collected the plates and mostly full tea cups.

"Why not?"

"Paris is not kind to a face like mine."

"I doubt it's that terrible, monsieur. Plus, you wear your mask."

His voice turned to ice. "I assure you, mademoiselle. It is that bad."

She doubted it, but she tried to hold the kindness in her voice. "Well then I suppose I'll just have to deliver your treats myself."

And that's what she did for the next two weeks. Every night she would bring a box full of leftovers to the opera house and drop them off in the Prima Donna room. She hadn't actually seen the Phantom since he escorted her back to the mirror two weeks ago, but every day when she came back the box was gone and a letter waited on the vanity, the wax skull seal smiling up at her. She loved getting the letters, even though they always contained more questions than answers. He wanted to know everything about her but he didn't share much about himself, even when she asked. He was very distant, but she enjoyed the letters, nonetheless.

Tonight was the same as the others. She grabbed the letter off of the vanity and took her usual spot on the divan. She slipped off her shoes and curled up on the pink couch. She carefully peeled off the seal and slipped it into her pocket. She was excited for this letter, it was the second part of a story the Phantom was relaying to her. It was about this wonderful Persian dancer girl who worked for the king. The whole kingdom loved her, but she had secretly put the king under a spell to save her lover, who was imprisoned. She had finally saved her lover but the spell was broken and the king knew everything. The letter from the night before ended as they were being chased by guards.

She could feel herself being transported into the story with each word. She could see the story in her mind's eye, the guards chasing the couple through the night, the daring sword fights, and the magical ending where the dancer and the prisoner run off into the night together. It was a lovely story, too, but it all seemed to disappear when she read the last two lines of the note. She read them aloud to make sure she read them correctly."I would like to request your presence in my home tonight. Now that you've finished the story, I have something you might enjoy."

She stood from the divan and looked down at the piece of paper. The bottom of the letter caught her eye. It wasn't the familiar signature, but a careful, albeit somewhat shaky scrawl. Instead of the usual Phantom, it was signed Erik. A smile quickly spread across her face. Grabbing the box of pastries, she quickly hurried through the mirror.


	12. Chapter 12

"Oh, how could I have forgoten a lantern?" Marjorie's hands ran across the damp walls. She was surrounded by compete darkness. There was no sound but her own heartbeat pounding in her ears, and the occasional rat scampering along the wall. There was no music tonight. Wasn't the path straight? She couldn't remember any other paths from when she was last down here. She knew she should have gone back to fetch a lantern. She felt like she had been walking for hours. It didn't take nearly this long to find the lake, last time. She was so excited to meet the Phantom- Erik- again, but now all she wanted was to get out of these horrible tunnels. After 15 more minutes of walking, she finally decided to turn back around. She didnt want to leave, but there was no use wandering around without knowing where she was going. Gripping the hem of her dress, she hurried back towards the direction from which she came.

"This is hopeless!" she cried, tears begining to slide down her cheeks. She was even more lost than before. She scanned the darkness around her, but there was nothing. A cruel laugh echoed through her head. _Maybe you'll be trapped here forever. You'll end up as rat food. _The voice had been remarkably silent for the past few days, but now it was coming back with a vengance. She sat on the cold floor and clutched her head. "Please stop," she whimpered. The voice continued to cackle. A splitting headache was begining to form and her tears didnt help.

"Who are you talking to?" A melodical voice rang out from above her, shattering the silence. Her head whipped up to see the familiar white mask gazing back at her. He stood tall above her, although the mask was the only thing she could see in the darkness.

"Oh, monsieur!" she cried out, before hugging onto his legs. He stiffened before quickly stepping out of her grasp. He cleared his throat and she quickly scrambled up. "I though I was going to die here! I was so scared!" She lunged to hug him again, but he stepped backwards.

"Do you think I would actually let you die here?"

"No." _Probably. _

His mask bobbed in the darkness as he nodded. "Do you still want to come with me?"

"Yes, please." Her voice was barely a squeak. She clamped a hand onto his sleeve. _What a child._ A giggle resounded in her head. He quickly slipped from her grip before carefully grabbing her hand with his gloved one.

They were actually much closer to the lake than she expected. She wondered if she could've found her way out by herself, although she much preferred Erik's company. _You'd get lost in a closet, though, idiot girl. And he probably only saved you to keep your body from stinking up his home. _More laughter filled her head as she struggled to push the voice away. It was horribly strong now. The last few days had been her happiest in a long time, since she was finally granted the silence she had longed for. But it was already gone and replaced with what felt like screaming.

The boat wobbled gently as Erik stepped on. She watched the water ripple underneath them. His eyes followed her curiously as she tugged on her sleeve nervously. She felt his eyes on her, but she paid no bother. As he pushed off of the dock, she sucked in a sharp breath. He glanced at her as he continued to row. Her hands gripped the sides of the boat. "Are you alright?"

"What?" Her eyes flicked to his. "Oh. Yes, quite..." A nervous giggle bubbled from her lips.

He continued to watch her as they made their way towards the lair. He surely thought she was crazy, now. _I don't blame him. It's not like he's incorrect. _She wished she was normal. Boats and water shouldn't be scary. Only children are afraid of those things. Her mind drifted back to the night he had saved her. He had nearly tried to kill her after that, but atleast he pulled her from the water. Surely if she fell in he would save her again. Right? They were friends now, weren't they? She did talk an awful lot in her letters, though. Maybe he just put up with her. But wouldn't he ignore her instead of replying? Maybe he was just too polite to ignore her.

Her thoughts drifted away as Erik tied the boat to the dock. Her hands reached beside her for the box of pastries but found nothing. "Oh no! I must have left the box in the tunnel!" Her frown turned into a pout. "There are probably rats eating them already."

Erik laughed lightly as he held a gloved hand out to her. "Don't worry about them, mademoiselle." She took his hand and stepped from the boat. "Those rat will be having quite the feast."

Marjorie watched him as he hung their cloaks up. Now that they were in the light, she could see that he had already begun to put on some weight. His face wasn't nearly as gaunt and his suit seemed to fit a bit better. He was still very thin, of course, but atleast it was a start. She was glad he was actually eating, too.

She followed him as he walked over to the organ. A comfortable looking chair had been placed not to far from it. He offered her the seat and she sat down. "Are you playing me a song?"

He nodded and smiled ever so slightly. "It's based off of that story I had told you. Of course it's not that great,though. I was much younger." He took a seat and positioned his hands.

"You wrote the song?"

That was when he began to play.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/n: Gah! I'm SO sorry I disappeared again! Now that school's started up, I've been so busy. But, do not worry! I think I've found my muse again, thanks to Toriana. Posting might be a little weird for a while until I get used to school again, but I promise I'll try to be more regular! But in other news, we've finally reached 1,000 views! I am shocked at how fast we did. I would like to thank everyone who has taken the time to read and review. I am so happy we have gotten this far, so thank you all again! On to the chapter!**

The music that came from the organ made her want to cry. It was beautiful, and happy, and sad. Her heart swole and broke at the same time. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard. Her eyes drifted closed as the music completely consumed her. It was a dark and beautiful tune, with a slight exotic feel. It was the song of the dancer and the prisoner, she realized.

She could feel their love and desperation come to life. It was as if the whole story was playing out before her eyes. She was being transported to the Persian palace, the beautiful dancers, the lively guests. She followed the couple though the busy streets as they ran from the guards. It was as if she was in a dream.

It was like she was in a trance. She only realized this, though, when a sour note was hit and the music stopped. Her eyes slowly fluttered open and she found herself at the organ. She didn't realize she had gotten up during the song. She hadn't even realized she walked over to the instrument. She turned to Erik whose eyes were slightly widened, and his hand was gripping his mask tightly to his face. Her hand rested on his shoulder. She must have frightened him. Her hand fell limply to her side and a deep blush grew upon her face.

"Oh. I didn't-...I mean... I'm sorry for frightening you, Monsieur." She stepped away from the organ bench. She didn't understand how she managed to get all the way over here without even noticing it. One moment, she was in the armchair, the next she was at the organ. It baffled her. A flurry of emotions danced across Erik's face before settling into relief. His hand fell from the mask before giving her a soft smile. Slowly, carefully, he slid across the bench, making room for Marjorie.

"Can you sing?" He repositioned his hands over the keys.

"Oh, no. I'm terrible at singing."

"I'm sure you're not _that_ bad, mademoiselle. Anyone can sing. Try it." He began playing _The Point of No Return_. She knew all the words backwards and forwards, and she had sung it before, but that didn't mean she was _good_.

When her cue finally came in, she began to sing. Her voice was shaking from nervousness and it barely reached a squeak. _Are you sure you aren't mimicking a pig?_ A deep blush spread across her face. Erik sent her a look.

"It's not singing if I can't hear you." His fingers continued to fly across the keys. He rounded back to her cue again.

After a shaky breath, she began to sing again._ "You have brought me to that moment when words run dry..." _Her voice cracked on the high notes and she struggled to keep her breath. The voice was laughing at her again. It was terrible and she knew it. The music still swelled around them. Why was he still playing? She sounded like a dying cat. Erik was still waiting for her to continue singing.

Softly, she began to continue the song. Her voice cracked on most of the notes, and she couldn't hold a lot of them, but she continued. When Erik joined in, his voice seemed to morph hers. Chills were racing down her spine. Although still not very good, Erik's voice definitely helped.

When the song finally ended, he turned to her. "I'm not going to lie to you, Marjorie. You aren't a great singer." Laughing filled her head. Her hands gripped her dress. "I've heard much worse, and you aren't terrible. But..." He looked disappointed.

"I understand, Monsieur..." She felt terrible. She knew she was bad, and he was only telling the truth, but it still upset her. It's not like she even wanted to be a singer. She looked down at the worn ivory. Erik began to play again, a soft, sad melody. They both seemed lost in their own thoughts.

She thought back to the past two years, how much she wanted to please this man who wrote the song she practically worshiped. And he was disappointed in her. It made her furious, and the music seemed sync with her emotions. The soft, sad song had turned to pure anger. It was violent and complex and beautiful and hateful. The sadness had completely fallen away. When the song ended, Marjorie dropped her head into her hands, still trapped in her thoughts. She felt like she was losing control. The voice was screaming in her head and her hands were shaking. She felt like reality was slipping away. She was angry at everything. She was angry at Erik and his disappointment, she was angry at her father and mother for dying and leaving her, she was angry at Lydia for forgetting about her, she was angry at her brothers for leaving her alone at the bakery, and most of all she was angry at her self for never being good enough.

A soft voice rang over the screaming in her head. "Marjorie?" A hand rested on her shoulder. She hoped off the bench and stepped away. Erik gazed at her. "Are you alright? What was that?" She just shook her head and walked to the lake. She could hear his footsteps following her. She sat on the cold marble and closed her eyes. She tried to calm her Breathing, begging for tears not to come. She was a mess. The footsteps stopped a few feet away from her. "What was that you were playing?" That confused her. What did he mean by what was she playing? He was playing the organ, not her. She wasn't even "there".

"What do you mean what was _I_ playing?" Her voice came out harsher than she expected.

"I was playing and it was like something had overcome you. You started playing with me. But then you took over the whole organ, shoving me away. You were furious." He looked at her with both admiration and worry.

She looked down at her hands. She hadn't played since Papa died. She looked up at Erik, her voice was barely more than a whisper. "I played?" Her head was swimming. She didn't even remember what it was like to play anymore. She didnt even think she could play anymore. She felt sick. "Can you take me home?"


	14. Chapter 14

Marjorie gripped Erik's hand tightly as he led her down a dark passage. He was showing her a different way out. She was glad it didn't include water travel. Her head was still spinning and her stomach was churning, and she probably would have never made it on the boat. The voice had finally began to calm down, although it was still buzzing in her head. She hated when this happened. The voice, although always mean, was only this violent when her emotions were changing so much. That's why she tried her best not to feel. It was best that way. But when she was with Erik, her mood seemed to constantly change. She was so used to the loneliness, her emotions went haywire. But she was starting to like it. He made her feel happy.

A creaking sound pulled her from her thoughts as Erik hoisted open a wooden door. Soft light fell across the hallway and the smell of manure and leather greeted her warmly. A snort echoed from the room. "A horse!" Standing in a stall was a huge black stallion, much taller than she.

Erik led her over to the horse and pet his nose affectionately. "Caesar." Marjorie held her hand out towards him carefully. He nudged her hand, searching for a treat. Erik handed her a peppermint, which she gave to the horse. Caesar nudged her again, affectionately. A smile started to spread across her face. She stroked his nose gently.

"Since its still a bit of a walk, we can take Caesar." Erik slipped a bridle on to the horse and adjusted the straps. "I hope you don't mind bareback. Caesar will be gentle." Erik walked back over and waited by the horse's side. "Let me help you up." Cautiously he put his hands on her waist before lifting her onto the horse. She was shocked at his strength. Although he was still so thin, he was incredibly strong. He hopped on behind her easily.

"I'd rather you didn't sit like that" her legs were draped over to one side. "I can't have you falling off." She turned and looked at him. He wanted her to ride like a man? She had rode like that before, but only when she was a little girl. Hesitantly, she lifted her leg over to the other side. It was a weird feeling, but she got used to it quickly. After all, who would see her down here in the dark? Here in the dark she could hide from the disapproving stares.

* * *

The brass handle of the door felt icy under her hand. The cold winter air blew through the foyer of the opera, swirling the ash under their feet. Erik draped his cloak over her shoulders. It smelled like candle wax and roses, just like him. She had given up on pleading for him to walk her home. Even under the cover of night, he refused to venture into Paris' streets. After promising to meet again the next night, she stepped out into the cold.

Marjorie's boots clicked against the street as she walked towards the bakery. Erik's cloak was wrapped tightly around her shoulders as the cold night air lapped at her face. The crisp air helped her mind clear her dizziness. Laughter and yelling spilled out onto the street from the taverns, the only places still open this late.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't hear the footsteps following her until a man called out to her. "Oi, Robert. What is it we got 'ere? 'Ey you! C'mere." She turned to see two men following not far behind her. They were both visibly drunk. "What's a fine lass like you doin' out so late? 'Ey, why ain't you talkin' to us?" Marjorie's English was poor, but she knew these men were trouble. She continued to hurry down the street. Another man stepped out from an alley in front of her, he was tall and could easily take her. She was cornered. "C'mon, lass. Why're you all alone in the dark? We're lonely too, y'know." The man in front of her chimed in, "Why don't ya help us out lass?" "Yeah, 'elp our loneliness."

"I'm sorry, Messieurs, I really should be home..." She stepped in to the street, stumbling over the cobblestones. The tall man grabbed her arm and pulled her back over. He gripped both of her arms like a vice. One of the men, Robert, leaned his face in close to hers. His grimy hands snaked around her waist and pulled her close. "Why don't we 'ave some fun, lass." His breath reeked of stale alcohol. "I've never 'ad a french girl."

"S'il vous plaît, messieurs! Please. Let me go." Tears flowed freely down her face. Her arms were going numb as she struggled in their grip. "I'll give you money! Just please let me go."

"Money ain't what we lookin' for, lass." The tall man leaned in towards her. Adrenaline pumped through her veins. As a final escape attempt, her knee slammed up in between his legs. His face contorted in front of hers and a wheeze escaped his throat. His hands let go of their vice as he fell to the ground in pain. She reached out and clawed another man's face, trails of blood left in its path. His hand met his cheek and came away red. "You'll pay for that you bloody bitch!"

She was struck hard, then, and fell to the ground. Blood gushed from her nose and her side screamed in pain. Boots kicked at her, but she pushed herself out of the mud and ran as fast as she could. The men yelled after her, but no one followed.

* * *

She woke up the next morning on the bakery floor, the farthest she could go when she had gotten home. Dried blood covered the floor where her head laid. Her whole body was screaming, and her nose was surely broken. She stood up slowly, Erik's cape falling to the floor. It was drenched with blood and mud, and had a few large tears in it. Slowly, she made her way up the stairs to her apartment.

Standing in the wash room, she pulled open the curtains, letting the morning light shine across her bare body. She was shocked at the person who stared back at her in the mirror. It was definitely not Marjorie Poirier staring back at her. No, Marjorie kept her self spotless at all times. Her hair shone and her nails were kept clean. No, this girl in the mirror was not her. Standing in front of her was an absolutely disgusting sight.

The girl in front of her was covered in mud. Her knees were bloody and bruised. Her side was scraped badly and her arms were covered with finger shaped bruises. On her neck were round bruises from kisses she didn't even remember through her adrenaline cloud. Following a dried stream of blood that reached her neck, her eyes met her face. _What a sight!_ For once she agreed with the voice. Her face was covered in blood from her nose, which was now slightly crooked. Her face was swollen and covered with scrapes. Her green eyes were surrounded by purple, presumably from her broken nose. Her blonde curls were matted with mud and stained red from blood.

After taking a bath, she returned to the mirror. She felt even worse than she looked. Even though she had gotten away before the men took advantage of her, she still felt impure. She felt like she wasn't even safe in her own home. Her hands traveled to the kissing bruises in her neck. Stolen kisses, even if they weren't on the lips. Her fingers continued to prod at the bruises gingerly until she noticed something. The familiar golden heart was missing from her neck. Her eyes scanned the room frantically. She simply couldn't have lost her mother's locket.

Digging under the sodden clothes on the floor, her hands met nothing but fabric. Her locket was gone, one of the few articles she had left from her mother. She stood and ran to her wardrobe, pulling on a dress. She might have just dropped it in the bakery, or perhaps while she was running from the men. She only hoped they didn't take it when they attacked her.


	15. Chapter 15

Her feet were silent as she passed the bustling people around her. Her eyes finally lifted from the ground. She had been searching for over two hours and still hadn't found her mothers necklace. She was glad it was snowing, it gave her an excuse to hide her bruised face under a cloak. It also gave her a way to hide her tears. She sat on the curb and huddled in the cloak. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs.

Why did everything have to be so hard? Everything from the past two years have been absolutely terrible. Nothing at all has been right. What did she do to deserve any of this? Her only happiness was Erik, a man she didn't even know. She felt they were friends, but for all she knew, he really was a phantom. She's only seen him at night and he never leaves the opera. Maybe he died in the fire. She laughed coldly as she stood. Why was she making such crazy assumptions about her only friend? Maybe this is why everyone always left her. Honestly, she didn't blame them.

* * *

_Marjorie stood by the underground lake. Her hair was down in soft curls and she wore an emerald gown that made her eyes shine. A golden sash flaunted her thin waist. She was beautiful. She didn't know what she was waiting for but the lake no longer made her afraid. Soft footsteps came up behind her and the smell of candle wax and roses clouded her mind. Strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her into an embrace. It was Erik, her Erik. He wore no mask, his face soft and kind and beautiful, like hers. Their lips met and her heart seemed to melt. But soon, the lips on hers turned violent and scruffy hairs scratched her face. The scent of stale alcohol cut through her clouded mind like a knife and her eyes opened. She was no longer on the lake, but in a dirty Parisian alley. Her dress fell away into a worn dress and apron. The men surrounded her like vultures stalking their prey. No matter how hard she tried, the nightmare wouldn't stop until they were finished with her. The man who kissed her stabbed a rusted blade into her chest and the dream would fall away, leaving her in her own bed, sweating and out of breath._

Her hands flew across the keys. Her tea had grown cold on the window sill. It was late, but she couldn't sleep. She was afraid something would happen. It had been almost a week since the men attacked her, but she still had nightmares. They were always the same. She couldn't go- wouldnt go- out at night any more. She hadn't even gone to see Erik since that night. She had ruined his cape and the bruises on her face were only now starting to fade. She looked like some sort of street urchin. Plus, she has no idea if Erik would even be awake during the day. He was wide awake whenever she visited him at night, and he had to sleep, didn't he?

Her mind drifted to the nightmare. The beginning confused her. She thought the idea of a relationship with Erik laughable. He was her friend and nothing more, right? But the idea still preoccupied her brain. What if the dream was supposed to mean something? Maybe she did have feelings for Erik. But of course, those feelings would never be acted upon. Even a masked man who lived underground couldn't love her. He was a genius. And herself? Well, she was Marjorie.

The music continued to swell around her. It wasn't the same as his organ, but this was her piano, her love. She had played for the past 7 days straight it seemed. She only stopped for meals or small naps. Her music had come back with a fury and it never seemed to end. She didn't mind, it was better than the nightmares. But the music made her miss Erik. She wanted to see him, but she couldn't make herself leave the house. The fear would paralyze her everytime she tried to walk out the door. But he was probably lonely down under the opera house. No, that was wrong. After all, hadn't he been down there long before she found him? She didn't know much about Erik, but it was obvious that his massive collection of things was not from a few mere years.

She stood from the piano and grabbed her tea from the window sill. She nearly spit it out when she tasted the cold drink. Her bare feet padded down the stairs to the bakery. The kettle sat warm on the stove. After filling her cup she sat on a stool. The tea warmed her whole body. Snow fell quietly on the black street. Silence filled her ears. It was the most peaceful she had felt all week. A movement caught her eye outside. She stood from the stool and moved silently towards the door. A huge black figure moved outside of the door. Her eyes widened in suprise as she recognized the figure. Quickly, she pulled on Erik's tattered cloak before stepping out into the snow.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Another chapter! This one will be quite a bit different from the others. I'd like to thank Smile for the idea, which was something I had been playing with since before the story had even existed. Hopefully this will work out. If you have any problems with something that's out of character or whatever, PLEASE let me know! Feel free to call me on whatever it is! Also, theres a bit of foreshadowing in this, but maybe not in a way you might expect. But anywho, to the story**!

Marjorie's nightgown swirled around like the snow under her bare feet. A large black stallion stood in front of her. "Caesar!"

The horse was dressed with a bridle but he stood alone. Erik was nowhere to be seen. Caesar nudged at Marjorie, willing her to climb on. She took another glance around before clambering onto his back. He took no time to dart off towards the opera house. The icy wind bit at her cheeks, but it didn't last long, as Caesar easily leaped up the stairs and into the opera house. It would probably be fairly humorous to an onlooker, but Marjorie felt daring, as if she were a prince off to save a princess.

Caesar trotted happily through the empty halls. She hadn't been this direction before. Caesar pushed his nose against a wall and it moved open. She couldn't even tell there was a door there. Caesar trotted down the dark passage until it opened on to a part of the lake she had never seen. The water must have been shallow here, since Caesar easily stepped through it. The lair must not have been far, since organ music rang loud off the walls.

She was right about it not being far. The music grew its loudest as Caesar rounded the corner and warm candlelight spilled over her. Erik had his back turned to her as he played the organ. Marjorie climed off of Caesar and stepped onto the shore. She turned to look back at the lake and her dream flashed back at her. Her gaze drifted over the water. It felt just like the dream but she wasn't the beautiful girl in the green gown, and she wasn't going to have Erik pull her into a kiss. She was the short and chubby girl with a crooked nose and an old nightgown. A gentle hand rested on her shoulder. The music had stopped. Slowly, she turned around.

Erik was silent while he took in her face. The bruises had begun to yellow, but they still were very noticeable. Her nose was crooked slightly to right. She stood there patiently as his eyes traveled down her neck, but they went no lower. A true gentleman, she decided. Finally, his eyes, flickering with anger, met hers again. "What happened?" She just shook her head. She had grown so very tired on the trip there. The seven nearly-sleepiness nights had finally caught up to her. She wobbled on her feet and nearly fell forward. Erik caught her by the arm. "Marjorie?"

"I'm so tired, Erik." Her eyes had fallen half shut. Erik wrapped his arm around her shoulders and sleep seemed to collapse on her.

**Erik's POV**

Where had she gone? It had been a week since I had seen her last. She didn't seem angry at me when she left. Why else would she disappear? Had she finally become afraid of the monster underneath? She hadn't even seen me without my mask. Am I that repulsive without it? Maybe I should go out and look for her. No, I couldn't. Paris still knew me, although they thought me dead. And, of course, I promised Antoinette. I would never show my face in Paris again.

It was an exceptionally quiet night. Even though my organ music filled the cavernous space, it felt silent. Loneliness pervaded my being. I felt even more alone than after _she_ was gone. With _her_ it was as if I never had her. But Marjorie, she was real. She was here, even on her own accord. She wanted to be with me. It was an odd feeling. I liked it.

A splashing noise from behind me pulled my attention from my thoughts. It was Caesar, I could tell. That horse could be ridiculous sometimes. He loved to play in the lake. It was as if he was still a foal. But Caesar was as loyal as any horse could be, so I left him to his playing. After all, you need something to do when your trapped underground for years. As the song grew to a close, I scribbled the last few notes down and turned to the lake. I was right about it being Caesar, but another figure suprised me.

Marjorie stood in her nightgown, her golden curls cascading down her back. I realized I had never seen her with her hair down. I much preferred them this way. Her back was turned and she was gazing out at the lake. I stood from the bench and walked towards her. She seemed completely lost in thought. How had she gotten down here? There was no boat, but she was dry, so she couldn't have swam. I placed my hand on her shoulder, careful not to suprise her. Slowly, she turned towards me. This was the second suprise of the night. Her face had been beaten, deep bruises curved under her eyes and her nose seemed to be broken. Healing scrapes dotted her cheeks, hiding her freckles from view. Slowly, my eyes trailed down her neck, bruised from rough kisses. I felt like I was on fire, flames licking at my veins and anger flashing in my eyes. Who had done this to her? "What happened?" She just shook her head as she began to sway slightly under my hand. She wobbled slightly before she nearly lost her footing. I gripped her arm, steadying her."Marjorie?"

Her eyes were starting to fall shut. "I'm so tired, Erik."

Cautiously, as not to frighten her, I wrap my arm around her shoulders. She seemed to collapse with exhaustion. Quickly, I decided to catch her and pick her up. Her arm dangled over my shoulder as I stood in the center of my home. What was I going to do with this sleeping girl?

I began to carry her towards the divan before a familiar curtain caught my eye. I hadn't dared enter that room in the past two years. I looked down at the sleeping girl in my arms. I had never had this much human contact in all of my years combined. She had touched me more than my mother ever had. More than Christine ever would. Marjorie's face was calm and her lips were tilted into a slight smile. She wasn't afraid of me like the others were. Slowly, I began to walk towards the Louis-Philippe room. Christine wasn't here anymore. She didn't need the room I had painstakingly built for her. But the girl wrapped in my arms did. Slowly, I pushed the curtain aside. The room was just as I had left it. Paintings laid piled in corners, trinkets sat on shelves, the large mirror remained covered in the corner. Carefully, I carried Marjorie over to the luxurious swan bed where Christine and I were to consummate the marriage that would never happen. The hole in my heart ached deeply, but I ignored it. I had become a master at that.

I lifted the dusty blanket from the bed and sat Marjorie onto the silk sheets. The battered girl looked beautiful in the bed. Her curls splayed around her, gold against the red sea of sheets. Her porcelain skin glowed, smattered with purple bruises. Slowly, my eyes began to travel down her smooth neck and across her soft body, her luscious curves barely hidden by the thin nightgown. Thoughts of that body pressed against mine swirled in my brain. Her soft lips pressed against my own. Her hands caressing my unmarred cheek. My hands traveling down her warm back before resting on her bottom. Disgust filled my brain as I realized my thoughts. They disappeared as I stormed off, away from the sleeping girl. I swore I could still feel her lips against mine, though.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: So today we reached 2000 followers! That's insane! I want to thank everyone again for supporting this story so much. Especially thank you all for the reviews. Its like christmas whenever I get a new one! Thank you all so much.**

It took her a moment to realize where she was when her eyes finally fluttered open. She sat up slowly as she took in her surroundings. The bed she was laying on was the softest she had ever felt. The frame was one of

the most amazing things she had ever seen. It was brass and shaped like a swan, adorned with perfect detail. Red silk sheets were draped over her body and she was surrounded by a heap of pillows. As grand as the bed was, the room didn't seem to hold up to it. It was full of beautiful items, but they sat alone, covered in a thick layer of dust that made the beauty just become creepy. Many other items draped with red cloth filled the room. They were mostly paintings, she assumed.

She climbed from the bed and grabbed a thick robe from the back of a chair. It was much too long for her, but it would do. She walked over to one of the paintings and lifted the cloth from it. It was a painting of a woman. She was beautiful. Her chocolate hair fell in perfect ringlets that framed her perfect, porcelain face. Her body was fit, but still had perfect hourglass curves. A soft, loving smile adorned her face and she stood proudly against the background. Lifting the cloth from another painting, the same woman smiled at her. Again and again until all of the paintings were visible, the woman gazed at her. This must be Erik's Christine. She was incredibly beautiful, much more than herself. It creeped her out a bit, but she knew he must have really loved her if he painted her so often.

Silently, she crept out of the room. Erik sat at his organ, but the room was silent. He sat hunched over the keys, his shoulders moving softly with each breath. She moved forward quietly. Soft snores drifted towards her ears. He was asleep! Marjorie tiptoed over carefully. Something white under the bench caught her eye. The porcelain mask laid on the floor at his feet. It must have fallen while he was sleeping. She stopped in her tracks. Curiosity tried to drag her forward but she didn't know what to do. Of course Erik wore the mask for a reason, you wouldn't wear a mask if you didn't want to hide something. She wasn't sure if she should look, though.

Before she could decide he began to stir. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. It reminded her of a child. Marjorie quickly darted back towards the room before Erik could see her, though. She felt guilty for some reason, but she hadn't done anything wrong. Climbing onto the bed, she heard footsteps approaching the door. She pulled the blanket back over her legs as Erik opened the curtain. "Oh, you're awake." He stepped into the room. His hair was slightly askew, and she realized he was wearing a wig. Her curiosity grew even more. Why would a man his age wear a wig? Maybe it had to do with his mask? Her eyes drifted over to the paintings. She realized she forgot to cover them. His eyes followed hers and a frown formed on his face. A thick uncomfortableness seemed to suck the air out of the room.

**Erik's POV**

Marjorie's gaze drifted from mine. Horror seemed to bloom in her eyes. My gaze slowly followed hers to the paintings in the corner. The familiar eyes gazed at him lovingly, a falsity. A grand hope, and empty promise. The face I couldn't bear to look at in the past two years was cold. The loving gaze was empty. My heart felt locked in an icy grip. _Christine..._

But then there was Marjorie. She sat curled up on the bed. Her small, bruised face was clouded with guilt. Her gaze was turned back to me. Why did she look so guilty? She hadn't done anything wrong. "I'm sorry I looked at your paintings. I shouldn't have gone-"

I just shook my head and cut her off. "The past is the past." I wasn't sure I believed that, but I didn't want her to feel bad. After all, nothing was her fault. I was the one who put her in the room full of hidden memories. "No harm, no foul." She seemed to accept my fake smile. I covered the paintings and made my way over to her. I offer my hand out to her. "How about a little breakfast?"

* * *

"So what is it that happened?" I gesture towards her face. She sets down her tea and sighs.

"It was the night I had left here. It was late, but it didn't bother me. I was almost home when I heard the footsteps behind me. There were these two drunk men, I think they were English, maybe Irish. They kept calling out to me, but English isn't very good. I couldn't understand what they were saying so I told them I had to go home. There was this other man too, in front of me. I was trapped. I tried to get away, but one of them grabbed me. I couldn't get away. And this other man kept touching me and grabbing at me," Her voice had grown shaky and here eyes glazed over. "Then I started kicking at them. I scratched open another one's face, I think. One of the hit me and I fell in the mud. I could tell he'd broken my nose. There was blood everywhere and the snow was red. Then they started kicking me. My face, my ribs. I thought I was going to die. But I got up and ran. I don't think they followed me. But they took my locket. It was my mother's."

My blood boiled in my veins. My eyesight was tinged red. Those men hurt Marjorie. My Marjorie. They were dead men walking. My hand instinctively moved to my side, but of course, my Punjab was gone. I hadn't tied a new one since that night. I leapt from my seat and left Marjorie alone in the kitchen while I marched towards my workshop. I shoved all of my work off of the desk. The music, the models, everything. I felt like a madman. I pulled lengths of red rope from a drawer and formed the knots I had know since my gypsy days. It took only seconds to create them. Three knots for three men. _No one hurts my Christine._


	18. Chapter 18

**Marjorie's POV**

Her hand rested on the doorway. Erik was flying in a blind rage. He was mumbling, but she wasn't sure what. She caught a few words, mostly Christine or bastards. It didn't make sense. What did Christine have to do with it? She watched as he flung himself around the room, tossing beautiful things onto the floor. He stormed around like a mini tornado, destroying everything he touched. She wanted to stop him, but she was afraid what would happen if she did. So she just watched.

Finally he stopped. In his hands he held three red nooses. He slowly turned towards her, his eyes seemed glazed over, never meeting hers or even acknowledging her existence. A jolt of electricity flowed through her veins as she realized his intentions. "No!"

His eyes slowly focused on her. His grip loosened on the ropes. For a moment, he had returned, but his expression turned to stone. "You will _not_ hurt them!" What had happened to sweet, kind Erik? She knew he was hurting, and he could be hurtful and down right vengeful, but kill someone? That seemed nearly impossible. Erik was much too kind for that. Wasn't he?

**Erik's POV**

For the first time in my life, my brain seemed to shut off. The constant clockwork just _stopped_. "No!" She yelled at me, shock had morphed her voice into a squeak. "You will _not_ hurt them!" My gaze focused on the girl in my doorway. It was Marjorie. The ropes began to slip from my grip. For a moment I returned to myself, but I turned to stone again in that instant. She was not my Christine. She would _never_ be Christine.

A small voice in the back of my head beckoned to me. _No, she is not your Christine. She's better. _Another voice begged me to slip a rope around her neck. I was confused, my brain had yet to start functioning again. After another long moment of confusion, I dropped the ropes. Slowly, the gears started turning again. Realization began to sink in. My gaze slowly shifted around the room. It was a wreck. All of my creations, beautiful things, laid broken on the floor. Blueprints and music sheets were ripped or scattered, water colors shattered to dust, sculptures broken, and all at my own hand. And then there was Marjorie. Her eyes were as wide as saucers and she seemed to be hiding behind her curls. She looked...terrified. I had broken her too, just like all of my things. She had seen the monster.

We just stood there, looking at at each other for what felt like ages. Emotions made their course through me, but I kept my face blank. We both did. Slowly, she moved forward until she stood right in front of me. She was atleast a foot shorter than I was. I could feel her warmth radiate deep into my ice cell. Slowly, her hand reached out and grabbed mine while the other rested on my visible cheek. "It's okay, Erik."

She was the one comforting _me? _I was the one who scared her. My mind was spinning. She just wasn't afraid of me. I lost myself in front of her and she _wasn't afraid_. Should she be? I wasn't sure, but no one has acted like this before. Her hand wiped my cheek and came away wet. I was crying? This day just grew even more strange. I stepped away and cleared my throat. "Excuse me."

No footsteps followed as I brushed into my room. I pull the sheet from the mirror and look at myself. That's it, I just look. The man in the mirror gazes back, a bone white mask covering half of his face. His wikis disheveled and hair hides part of the other half of his face. I slick my hair back and continue to look. My tears had loosened my mask some, and after checking that the door is closed, I pull it off. The unfortunately familiar face looks back. I take a cloth and wipe my face and the inside of the mask. She will never see the face behind the mask. I made that mistake with Christine. No one will ever see my face again. Replacing the mask, I smooth my hair again and adjust my suit. I turn my back to the mirror and head back out of the room.


	19. Chapter 19

**Marjorie's POV**

His tears were still damp on her hand. She stood alone in the workshop, carefully picking up the mess. She was worried for him. She wasn't sure what happened in his head after she confronted him, but his tears scared her. All she knew to do was to help. She had to make him feel better. She could tell he used to be powerful. What could break such a strong man? Then she remembered. Christine. How could a girl break someone so much? She thought back to her parents' deaths, especially her father's. Those times crushed her. She liked to think she was better from then, but it was obvious she wasn't. The voice confirmed that.

Her thoughts returned to Erik. Maybe Erik was just as broken from this Christine. She wondered if they were lovers. They must have been, Erik adored her so much. But where had she gone? Perhaps she died. Or maybe she just left. She wasnt going to ask, though, that would be terribly rude. And earlier, had he been calling her Christine? No, that was silly. She wasn't nearly as beautiful. She was nothing like the dancer in the portraits. But, somehow, she knew she was lying to herself. He had called her Christine. She wondered why though. She would never be good enough to match his wonderful lover. Even if she wasn't a Christine, she knew she had to fix this broken man. Maybe he could fix her, too.

When Erik walked back into the main room, where she had been waiting, he had a dignified air about himself. He felt miles away too. He promptly apologized for his attitude. Marjorie was confused. She had made him angry, she supposed, considering she had talked about the men. She accepted his apology, nonetheless. An awkward silence fell between them.

"So."

"So."

We stood there in silence. Finally, she spoke up. "So, uh, what time is it above?" She had been asleep for at least twelve hours, she knew that much. But underground without any clocks or windows, There was no way of knowing. She watched as he pulled a delicate silver pocket watch from his suit. He flipped it open with ease.

"9:36, at night." He placed it back in his pocket. And then looked back at her. His voice was stiff and distant. "I suppose you want me to take you home?"

"Could you play just one song first?"

**Erik's POV**

Again, this girl suprised me. I was positive she'd want to go home as soon as possible. But no, this girl didn't want to, she _wanted_ my company. Having lived a life as a burden and a monster, this girl sent me reeling. This wonderful creature was nothing like the people who had taken their stance in my life. She was a light in the darkness. After a moment in thought, I nodded my head and lead her over to the organ.

It was then that she slipped her hand into mine. It was different from earlier, when she had held my hand. It wasnt in consolation, but in trust, complete comfort. In my whole life, I couldn't remember anyone feeling comfortable with me. She didn't mind the monster.

She sat next to me as I began to play a new song. I had worked on it earlier, but now it had changed into something even stronger. I called it _The Girl With The Green Eyes_, but of course I wasn't telling her that. It was sweet and gentle, just like her, with a bittersweet sadness to it. With her leg pressed against mine, it was even more surreal.

* * *

The cold air wrapped around our shoulders as our footsteps fell in stride on the dark street. It was weird being outside of the Opera, scary too. But the streets were empty and it was my job to protect Marjorie, so there wasn't much of a problem. In addition, she wasn't lying when she said she didn't live far from the opera house. It was only a block or so away. I was thankful for that, atleast, in case I needed a quick way home.

I helped her up the icy step to the bakery. She unlocked the door and turned to smile at me. "Thank you, Erik, for walking me home." She pushed the door open and stepped in before a thought dawned on me.

"Oh, Marjorie, I almost forgot."

She turned and looked at me as I pulled the golden heart from my pocket. Her eyes grew wide as I held out her locket. She took it in her hands before flinging her arms around me. "You found my locket! Oh, thank you, Erik!"

Then her lips slammed into mine.

Time felt like it had stopped for the second time that night. The few seconds her soft lips were pressed against my scarred ones seemed to last forever. My whole mind was spinning and my stomach was doing flips. _She was kissing me._ I wanted to pass it off as the heat of the moment, but when her lips didn't leave my mouth, I kissed her back. All of my walls I had built to hide myself had crumbled. She meant this kiss. And I sat there like an idiot. My usual superiority was unmatched as this girl pressed her lips against mine. I felt like a schoolboy to a queen.

When she finally pulled away a large smile was plastered on her face along with a deep blush. I stood there with my mouth agape as she stepped back into the backery. "Well, goodnight, Erik."

She curtisied before slipping inside.

I could have sworn I stood on her doorstep for atleast fifteen minutes as the snow fell around me. My mind was trapped in a cloud. My hand braced onto the door as the world spun dizzily around me. The whole walk home I felt like my heart was going to fly out of my chest it was beating so hard.

My head was still swimming as candlelight washed over me as I stepped back into the lair. As I hung up my cloak, familiar footsteps sounded behind me, stopping me in my tracks.

"Hello, Erik."


	20. Chapter 20

"Daroga."

"You're looking very well, Erik." Nadir stood before me, his worn face resting in a calm expression. He wasn't lying, I supposed. The last time he saw me was only a few months after Christine left. I hadn't eaten for nearly a month and my body was so full of morphine I could've numbed a whole hospital. It during that visit that, through my drug fueled haze, I had attempted to kill him. He was used to my antics, but I was quite suprised he actually returned.

"Why are you here?"

He took a long sip of his tea —my tea— before answering. "Am I not allowed to visit an old friend?" My defenses slowly lowered. He wasn't lying, he did seem truly interested in seeing me, but there was something else too. My usual intuition had fallen flat and I hadn't the slightest idea what it was he was hiding.

"What is it that you're hiding, Nadir?"

He sat there for a long time, choosing his words carefully. After draining his tea, he spoke, "The opera is to be rebuilt. There will be men starting tomorrow. They're calling it a _grand remanier_. I've volunteered to become a patron, to oversee whatever I can." His voice grew soft, "They wish to hire the Vicomtess de Chagny once more, now that they believe you are dead."

**Marjorie's POV**

Her hands shook as she pushed open her bedroom door. She had actually kissed him! Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She had no clue where she had gotten the courage from, but her whole body was tingling. She had never felt so powerful. She was so used to being the quiet girl in the background, she had no idea what it was like to take charge. And she loved it.

She fell back onto her bed and held her locket against her heart. She was giddy and had no idea how she could manage to sleep now. She had to tell Lydia! A strong realization stopped her though. Lydia couldn't know. No one could know. How could she even explain that she was frolicking around with a man who lived under the city? They'd this she was crazy. According to Erik, everyone in Paris thought the Fantôme de l'Opéra was dead. She had no idea wether or not people actually knew of him, but she couldn't go around telling people about him. No one could know she was in love with him. Never. Not Lydia, or her brothers. The only ones who knew were, of course, her parents, if they actually were somewhere, watching over her. She wondered what they thought. Were they happy for her? Or were they upset?

She stared up at the dark ceiling. She wondered how much they knew about Erik. She admittedly didn't know much. She knew he loved a girl named Christine but that's all she knew of his past. She knew he was a genius and an incomparable musician that left her far behind in the dust. He was older than her, but she didn't think it was by much. She wondered what his life before her was like. He must have traveled all over the world, she decided, thinking of all of the interesting and strange objects he had laying all over his home. She wondered about his family. Did he have one? Or did he have any friends? And why was it he refused to leave his home? The question that prodded her mind hardest, though, was obvious. What is under his mask?

* * *

Marjorie pushed her hair out of her face as she slid the final tray into the display. The bakery was spotless and the cases were full of her prettiest pastries yet. Bells tolled noon outside as she carefully slipped the best of the lot into a box. carrying the box, she walked over to the closet where she kept her cloaks. She pulled her favorite, a blood red cloak, over her shoulders and stepped out the door into the cold sunlight.

As she neared the Opera, she heard loud voice and noises ringing out from inside the doors. Ice seemed to pour in her veins when she realized the men carrying out the scorched sculptures. Other men carried in wood. We're they going to start rebuilding? Her hands gripped the box of pastries nervously as she watched the men file in and out of the building. She leaned against the fence, while the men contupinued to work. Finally, the 12:30 bell rang from the clock tower and the men began to leave for lunch. When most of them had gone, she quickly slipped into the foyer, running towards the Prima Donna room. The door was propped open and she entered cautiously. The mirror had been replaced, by Erik, she assumed. She pushed against it gently, but it didn't budge. Tugging on it didn't do anything either. Her hands ran along the edge but there was no notch or hook or anything that would let her open the mirror. She wasn't able to make it through the other way without any of the men seeing her, and as they began to come back in she became increasingly trapped.

Giving up, she finally began knocking on the mirror. "Erik?" She tried to whisper as loud as she could without giving herself away. She was praying he would hear her. If anyone were to find her,Moshe was sure they'd haul her off, thinking she was mental. "Please, Erik, where are you?" She continued to knock before the mirror finally opened.

A smallish older man stood in the opening, his warm face set into a look of confusion. He wore a astrakhan hat on his head and his skin was fairly dark compared to hers. Confusion masked her face. "You're not Erik."_ Well, obviously_. Of course the voice had to make a comment.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Marjorie, Monsieur."

"How do you know Erik?"

"I'm uh..." A blush settled across her face, "I'm a friend. Who are you?" His green eyes examined her carefully.

"I am too, a friend of Erik's."

"Erik has friends?" As soon as the words came out, she realized how terrible they sounded, but the man's deep laugh quickly reassured her. Her blush grew even deeper. He led her into the hallway and closed the mirror.

"I like you, Marjorie. Erik's constant brooding needs some humor. I suppose that's why Allah put us here in his life."

Marjorie smiled and nodded, even though she didn't have the slighted idea who Allah was. She assumed he was God or someone, but she wasn't sure. Nadir easily wove through the hallways and she followed suit. She had no idea how he knew the way so well, nor how Erik managed to learn it either. When they reached a staircase, her brows furrowed in confusion. This wasn't the way to Erik's they were headed above ground, rather than below.

Before she could ask, her questions were answered as Nadir pushed open a small trap door. The door opened into a small room that opened to a balcony. Erik stood there, gazing down at the men below, working on the stage. In golden lettering, the number 5 was emblazoned on the real door to the room. A single chair sat on the center of the balcony. Finally Erik's eyes moved away from the men and onto Nadir and Marjorie. A stange mix of suprise and embarrassment clouded his face. Next to her, Nadir stood hard, his lighthearted attitude had seemed to have vanished. "May I speak to you a moment, Erik?" Erik nodded and smiled politely at her.

"Excuses-nous, s'il vous plaît."

They both stepped out into the hidden hallway and Marjorie sat alone in the single chair. She took a croissant from the box and nibbled on it while she watched the men work. She wished she could hear what nadir and Erik were saying, but their voices were nearly silent.

After what felt like a lifetime, Erik finally came back in, hitting the door against the wall. It wasn't purposeful, but he looked a bit ticked off. He apologized and smoothed back his hair—wig— into place. Nadir didn't follow him, but she could hear his footsteps traveling back down the corridor.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: okay you guys, I am SO sorry I haven't updated recently. School has been crazy hectic and I just lost interest. But, I'm back again, and I promise I won't disappear again. So anyway, PLEASE review, it seriously helps me stay motivated. Thanks again for taking the time to read this!**

I watched as the men tore apart the charred remnants of my theater. They seemed fairly tamed, but if one stepped out of place, I'd be sure to let my presence be know. My eyes followed a tall ginger boy as he branched of from the group. I heard the false wall behind me open, but I paid no mind to Nadir. The boy began wandering, I wonder if he was searching for me, or perhaps my ghost. Another boy in the group called out to him for help, and he sheepishly returned.

When I turned, I was surprised to see Marjorie standing next to Nadir. A slight blush creeped across my face. I hadn't intended for them to meet, although I did nothing to stop it. I wasn't even expectingx her until tonight. My gaze shifted to Nadir. His brow was furrowed and his mouth was turned into a frown. I was in trouble. "May I speak to you a moment, Erik?" I was definitely in trouble.

I smiled politely at Marjorie. "Excusez-nous, s'il vous plaît."

We stepped back into the small corridor and Nadir turned to frown at me. "Please tell me you aren't doing this again, Erik." I was a bit taken aback at the harshness in his voice.

"I'm sorry?"

"Who is this girl, Erik? What is her purpose?"

Anger flooded through my veins. What was he implying? My voice filled with venom. "You think Marjorie is a _prostitute_?"

Nadir's eyes grew wide. "No! No, of course not! She's a lovely girl, Erik, but I see how you look at her. I don't think you should start taking her the way of-"

"The way of Christine? Marjorie is _not_ Christine. No one could ever be Christine. And no one could ever, _ever_ be Marjorie." My vision was turning red and my shoulders were stiff. I hissed vehemently at him, "Do _not_ compare them."

"I'm sorry Erik, but you can't afford another accident in this opera house. We cannot have another chandelier crash!"

"I can take care of myself, Nadir." My anger had turned cold as I adjusted my suit. "You may choose to either leave or stay in _my_ opera house, but we will not discuss this again."

"Please consider, Er-"

"We will _not_ discuss this, Nadir!" I pushed the door back open and stepped back into box 5. Of course, the door slammed into wall. My hair hung in my face and my mask was slightly askew. I smooth my hair back and adjust my mask, clearing my throat. "Pardonne-moi."

"What did you talk about?"

"It was nothing, mademoiselle" I stepped towards her and eyed the box in her hands. The intoxicatingly sweet smell wafted to my nose. My stomach growled with desire and Marjorie's laugh filled the small room.

"Are you hungry?" My stomach growled again and her body shook with laughter. And I found myself craving more of it. She had the kind of laughter that brightened up the whole room. It wasn't the timid little titter that most women found proper, it was a contagious sound and I found myself laughing too.

We must have been heard, because footsteps and voices began approaching the door. Quickly, I grabbed her and pulled her into the corridor and replaced the wall, right as the men walked in. Pressing my finger to my lips, I pull her up the staircase. A draft blew at our ankles from the door at the top of the stairs.

"Close your eyes."

I open the door and lead her out onto the roof. I take the box from her hands and set it on a ledge before leading her to the edge of the roof.

"Open your eyes."

**Marjorie's POV**

"Open your eyes."

Her eyes fluttered open and she was shocked at what she saw. Her mouth fell open and she gasped. The whole city of Paris laid out before them with the sun beginning to set. It was beautiful, so much more so than the view from her home. She could see the Seine glistening orange in the sunlight and the half-built Tour Eiffel looming above it. She didn't care how much the other Parisians hated it, she found it to be lovely. "It's so beautiful, Erik."

"I thought you'd like it. It's much better than my dungeon."

She walked to the edge of the roof before sitting, tucking her legs under her. Erik sat next to her and placed the box between them. He opened it and turned it towards her. "Ladies first?"

Grabbing a tart, she turned the box back towards Erik and they both ate together in silence, gazing out across Paris. Slowly, she reached her hand across the box and placed it in his. For a moment, he froze, but he soon wrapped his hand around hers.

For once, the noise in her head finally went silent. The only sound was their breathing and the noises drifting from the street. Even though it was cold, she felt warm just being with him.

Eventually, her gaze drifted to the bakery. She hadn't really planned on being gone so long, but it wasn't too busy. People passed by, some looking in. It was a strange feeling watching from the outside.

Eventually, her eyes began drifting down the street until movement caught her eye. A carriage bounced down the road before slowing to a stop in front of the bakery. A lean brunette man jumped out before helping a very pregnant girl out of the carriage. Marjorie's eyes widened as she realized who it was.


	22. Chapter 22

"Merde!" Marjorie quickly stood, burshing the dirt from her dress. "Merde, merde, merde!"

"What's wrong?" Erik's eyes were wide with suprise at her language.

"I have to go. I completely forgot."

"Forgot what?"

She ignored him and hurried towards the door. "I really must go, Erik."

"Marjorie." His hand slipped around her arm, pulling her to a stop. She finally turned to look at him. "What did you forget?"

"My brother and his wife were coming to visit and I completely forgot. My whole house is a mess and I just _have_ to go." She planted a kiss on his cheek before hurrying back down into the opera house. He followed close behind, leading her down the corridor.

"You have a brother?"

"Three, actually. Henri, Lucien, and there's Marc, who's waiting for me."

"Do they live with you?"

"No, no. They're either married or engaged, and they have their own families. Ever since my parents passed, the bakery is my job while they frolick with their lovers." She looked back at him and blushed slightly. "That was a bit mean wasn't it?"

"No, it's understandable. I mean, they all left you alone while they go off to live their lives."

"I'm just awfully pessimistic." She shrugs and keeps walking. She supposed she was used to being alone and independent. She was always the only girl in a family of boys. When her mother died, she was even more alone.

They walked in silence until Erik stopped her in front of a section of wall. After moving it, he pushes a dusty curtain out of the way that opened into a desolate hallway. He checks around before leading her into a hallway.

"Here, you can go straight through this door to get out through the front of the building. I'll make sure no one bothers you."

"Thank you, Erik." She stood on the tips of her toes and have him another kiss. "I'll try to be back tonight."

* * *

Her hair was loose around her face when she finally made it to the bakery. After taking a deep breath, she pulled on a smile and pushed open the door.

"Marjorie!" Her brother came out from the back room and pulled her into a tight hug. His wife waddled out, not too far behind.

"Marc! I've missed you!" She hugged him tightly. He was her favorite brother, although she never said it aloud. She missed his hugs, his voice, everything. His arms finally loosened, a silly smile across his face.

"You look simply stunning, wouldn't you agree, Céline?"

Céline pulled her into another hug. "You're practically glowing!"

A deep blush settled across her cheeks. "I'm sorry I was so late. I was...making a delivery. But it's so lovely to see you both!"

"You have been making deliveries? All by yourself in this city?" Marc's eyebrows furrowed with worry.

"It was only a friend, and it's not too far. You worry too much, mon frère." She led the couple over to a table to sot. "You know it's not as terrible as you act."

"You know I don't like this city, Mars. It's filthy and no place for a young lady to live alone. Especially one as lovely as my sister! This city is full of criminals and perverts."

"You grew up here, too, Marc. In this house, for that matter! I am perfectly content and safe where I am."

Céline finally chimed in, "Please won't you come down and live in Nice with us? We could spend our days o-"

"I am not leaving Paris. I'm terribly sorry, Céline, but I couldn't simply abandon this place."

"This bakery is no place fo-"

"This is my home, Marc. At one time it was yours too." Her eyes had fallen to the tablecloth. "We were born here. Mother and Father died here. And some day I will too."

"Oh don't be so morbid. It's not becoming."

"Please, Céline, that isn't necessary." A deep sigh escaped his chest. She really didn't want an argument, especially since she hadn't seen him in what felt like ages. But he knew how she felt. "Perhaps we should change the subject?"

"I'll think I'll work on supper..." She didn't really want to cook, she just had to get away from the situation and breathe. Standing from the table, she nodded politely at them before heading to the kitchen. She poured herself a small glass of gin and ignored the whispers coming from the couple. She downed the drink quickly and pulled the ingredients from the cupboard.

Dinner was simple, and they ate in silence, aside from occasional small talk. Céline excused herself early, claiming fatigue due to the baby and the voyage. When she was gone, the silence was new partly unbearable.

Marc reached across the table and clasped her hands gently. "I really do want you to consider Nice. We still have the summer home, you could live there, and I have a line of suitors who you'd adore. You need to settle down and have a family, Mars. Beauty doesn't last forever. And any man would love to marry someone as lovely as you."

"I said no, Marc. Please don't press it." Her thoughts drifted to Erik as they sat in silence once again. She wondered if anything would ever come from them. She wasn't even sure if they were in a courtship. She tried to imagine a life with him, but she couldn't imagine a life under an opera house, raising children in a cavern. She wasn't sure if she could see Erik living a day-to-day life in the bakery either. Her feelings were strong for him already, though, and even if she couldn't imagine a future with him, she could imagine a life without him either.

"Marjorie? Are you alright?" Marc's voice pulled her from her thoughts. A concerned expression masked his face.

"Hm?" Her gaze lifted to his.

"I wanted to know if you wanted me to clean up? You look terribly tired."

"Oh, thank you, but I've got it. Why don't you check on Céline? I'll be in bed soon. I've just had a lot to think about. Just go to sleep and we can talk in the morning."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course, go to bed."

She watched as he walked up the stairs. She cleaned the dishes quickly and sat at the table for nearly an hour until she was sure they were asleep. Quietly, she snuck across the room and grabbed her cloak from its hook. As silently as possible, she slipped out the door and into the night.

She hadn't gotten far until she heard the footsteps behind her. She tried to pass them off as just another passerby, but when they started to come closer, she broke into a run without even looking back.


	23. Chapter 23

"Marjorie!"

She stopped dead in her tracks. The cloak fell down against her shoulders. The voice made her forehead break into a cold sweat and her shoulders tense up. The glorious sense of freedom she had felt running down the street had disappeared and turned into an anchor chained around her ankles, quickly pulling her down into reality. She had been caught. Shit. She wondered if she could still run, but there was no way she would lead him to Erik. He was faster than her anyways. Slowly she turned around to face her brother, his arms crossed across his chest. He wasn't even dressed in his bedclothes yet.

"What the devil are you doing, Marjorie?!"

"I-"

"It's the middle of the night! Why are you out here? It's freezing! Are you feeling alright?"

She was trapped and he kept bombarding her with questions. Her mind was completely blank. Instead of answering she just stood there, mouth agape. _Say something you idiot! _"I was...er... I was on a walk..."

"At midnight?"

"I...I..." She struggled for an excuse, "I was thinking of mother and papa..." She let her head drop, feigning a woeful expression. False tears budded at the corner of her eyes before they slipped down her face. She hated lying, but it was her only way out of the situation.

"Oh," Marc's eyes widened in suprise before going soft. "Marjorie..." Her brother walked towards her, extending his arms to her. But instead of stepping into his embrace she took a step back. A hurt and confused look formed on his face.

"Please don't. I just need to be by myself. Please." More fake tears rolled down her face. She let out a quiet whimper. "Just go back to the bakery. I'll be home soon. Let me walk a while longer."

"Are you sure you don't want me to walk with you?"

"Yes!" Her eagerness had gotten the best of her. "I mean, yes, please. Don't worry about me. I'll be alright." She wrapped her arms around herself and sniffled.

He looked like he wanted to protest, but he let out a sigh. She had found his weak spot, and she knew he would give in. "Please be safe."

"I'll be home soon, Marc." She walked over and hugged him, hopefully giving him some sort of peace of mind. Slowly he turned and walked back to the bakery. She waited thirty seconds after he went in before breaking into a run towards the opera house. Her cloak flew out behind her like red wings. She couldn't risk him seeing where she went or even secretly following her.

**Erik's POV**

I checked my pocket watch for what felt like the umpteenth time. She hadn't said precisely when she was coming or even _if_ she was coming, but my patience was still worn thin. I continued to pace in the moonlight over the marble foyer. I checked my watch again. 12:17. The hand seemed liked it would never move.

My thoughts drifted to what Nadir had said earlier. He didn't truly think Marjorie was going to be like Christine, did he? It took a long time to even convince Nadir to let me meet her alone. He was convinced I was dragging her into my world. But she seemed to enjoy my company just as much as I enjoyed hers. There was no force, no hatred. But a thought dawned upon me; she had never seen the monster behind the mask. I thought of Christine before she had ever torn the mask from my face. She was happy, and so close to obtaining her potential. I was her angel of music and she was my muse. She was almost mine.

A quiet voice chimed in at the back of my mind. _But she never would be._ The voice was right, as much as I wished it wasn't. I couldn't imagine a situation where she wouldn't look under my mask. Curiosity would always get the best of her. And my face, this wretched deformity, would always be a wedge between us.

My thoughts continued on their dark path as I paced the room. I checked my watch again. 12:19. I watched as the hand turned to 12:20. She wasn't coming. I had known it all along. I slipped the watch back into my pocket. The dark hall ahead of me was welcoming, and it wrapped around me like a blanket. I pushed on the wall, opening the passageway. Just as I stepped in, the front door was pushed open. Marjorie stepped in and looked around.

For a moment, I just watched her, silent in the corner. Her hair shone radiantly in the moonlight and her cloak pooled around her feet like blood. Her skin was smooth and pale, like marble. Her beauty was remarkable and I couldn't pull myself away. I took her in for a moment more before stepping from the shadows.

I must have startled her because she spun around with a gasp. "Don't do that!"

A smile formed across my face before I noticed her eyes were rimmed with red. Worry clouded my mind. "Have you been crying?"

"What? Of course not."

"Your eyes are red."

"Are they?" Her hands came up and touched her cheeks. "Oh." She lowered her head slightly, her voice full of shame.

"What's wrong? Did someone hurt you?" I could hear the anger in my voice begin to rise and my blood beginning to turn hot.

"No, no! Nothing happened. They weren't real tears." Both confusion and relief washed over me. What did she mean that they weren't real tears? Sensing my confusion, she explained, "My brother had caught me leaving. I told him I was on a walk. He didn't understand why I'd be out in the middle of the night. I couldn't possibly tell him I was meeting a man. Especially one who lives under the Opéra Populaire! He'd send me right to an asylum. I told him I was thinking of our parents. I made myself cry, just to prove it to him. I know it is a terrible thing to use the dead for your bidding, but it's all I could do. I didn't have any other excuses."

Relief washed over me, but I was surprised at what she had done. She had lied to her brother, her family, for my sake. I felt as if I were corrupting her, a rocky ledge I had dreaded standing on. I was doubting that any of this relationship, if I could even call it that yet, would turn out for the better. I couldn't possibly tarnish this radiant young girl, leading her to lies and trickery. But when she wrapped her hand around mine, the doubt disappeared.

Instead, it was replaced with a strange realization. As much as I believed I was pulling her into the deep, dark spiral of my existence, she was pulling me down as well. In my attempt to preserve her, I hadnt realized she was pulling me down into a romance I had so deeply been afraid of, hid from. If she were to leave I had no doubt it would be earth shattering. The walls I had so meticulously built to hide from this pain were being brought down, brick by brick. We were anchors, wrapped together and cast out at sea. Our sinking would not come to a stop.

We were already much too deep.

We were past the point of no return.


	24. Chapter 24

I watched as our hands moved together across the keys. Her fingers seemed to mimic mine flawlessly. It was strange that her music almost rivaled mine. I hadn't realized how dull it was when my music was always a step above. Competitiveness had never seemed to come upon me. It was invigorating to have my skill put to the test.

Her shoulder moved against my arm, our bodies close on the bench. Electricity seemed to spark between us like some unknown force, drawing us together. The moment felt almost magical, with music surrounding us, consuming us whole. It intertwined us, linking us together. As much as I admired singing accompanying my music, there was a secret and beautiful bond when our music combined. The moment would have been one of the most remarkable in my life if it weren't for Nadir lingering on a sofa at the other end of the room, watching over us. I felt as if we were two adolescents in an awkward courtship overlooked by the all-knowing parents. I found it quite embarrassing, but Marjorie didn't seem to mind, her eyes closed peacefully as she gave into the music.

She was only drawn from her waking slumber when my foot slipped from a pedal and slammed into her shin. There was a yelp and a sour note before the music came to a stop. I found myself apologizing profusely to her now shaking form. My words dissolved when I noticed a strange sound coming from her. Was she...laughing? Her head fell back, her curls falling behind her. She continued to laugh and I just stared at her like a fool. I had kicked her and she just laughed? I found myself at a loss and I quickly glanced over at Nadir who was watching the event unfold with curiosity. Eventually, I caught myself laughing as well. A deep chortle that came from the bottom of my chest. I couldn't remember the last time I had laughed like this, but the sound continued without yeild. My whole body shook and I felt incredibly light. The situation wasn't even that humorous, but the laughter continued to pour out between us.

When our laughter finally came to a stop, we smiled ybreathlessly at each other. Marjorie's hands clung to my shoulders as our lungs begged for oxygen, undoubtedly explaining our lightheadedness. The whole situation was ridiculous in every sense of the word, but it seemed to completely lift my being. My hands grabbed hers gently and she placed her forehead against mine as we waited for our breathing to calm. I craved for her lips in that moment, but Nadir's presence made me shy away. Her lips were tantalizingly red and I longed to throw my arms around her and hide her from the rest of the world. I wanted her to be mine alone.

Finally, when our breathing returned to normal, I pulled away and readjusted my mask. "I think it's about time I take you home."

"Can't I stay a while longer?" Her smile turned into a pout. As much as I wished she would stay, I had to tell her no.

"Won't your brother be missing you?" I definitely couldn't risk her brother coming after her and finding me. I couldn't have her getting in trouble either. If it was any other time I would have said yes in an instant, but with her brother on high alert it was a danger I didn't want to risk.

"I'm sure he's asleep. Can't I stay?"

I let out a small puff of air. I didn't want to argue any longer. "What if I escort you home? We can walk slowly."

"But I want to stay here. Just for the night? I like it down here." This came as a suprise to me. I couldn't understand how anyone would want to stay here. I don't even want to stay here and I've lived here nearly my entire life. Who would ever want to stay in a cold, dark, basement?

"Please, Erik?" Her lip began to quiver and her big doe eyes gazed up at me, beginning to fill with tears. I looked at Nadir for assistance but he just watched with amusement. Her hands clutched mine as tears began to roll down her cheeks. I was making her cry, I couldn't possibly say no.

"I suppo- "

"Oh thank you, Erik!" Her lips met mine for an instant and she stood from the bench. Her tears were gone, replaced by a wide grin. "I'll go make us some tea!"

She skipped away into the hall and I just gazed after her. What had just happened? Nadir's laughter came from the end of the room as I sat there in bewilderment. That mischievous girl tricked me! She had me completely under her spell and I fell for it! This girl was nearly as tricky as I was.

Nadir walked towards me, placing his hand on my shoulder. "She has you on quite the leash, doesn't she?"

* * *

I closed the curtain behind me, leaving Marjorie swaddled in the swan bed. She had fallen asleep against me on the piano bench, wrapped in my cloak. I hadn't even noticed until she began to mumble in her sleep. I drew the song to a close and carried her to the swan room. It was hers now, I had decided in my attempt to eliminate the past. I wasn't upset about it, but it was still a rather somber moment. It wasn't unlike the bittersweet feeling you get when you reach the end of a book. I felt as if I too had closed the cover on that part of my life, as painful as it was.

I stepped into the study where Nadir had retired with a book. He lounged in a chair infront of the fireplace with a glass of brandy. After pouring myself a glass, I joined him. "You come into my home, sleep in my beds, eat my food, nearly babysit me, read my books, _and_ you drink my alcohol? You are quite a rude guest, Nadir. "

"Oh, be quiet, Erik." He closed the book and placed it on his lap. "I'm actually quite surprised with you."

"Is that so? You must not think very highly of me."

"She seems to truly love you."

I nearly choked on my brandy when he said that. Love? I was aware there was some form of mutual attraction, but _love_? _Me_? It wasn't even a feasible idea. I'm sure the idea of love hadn't even crossed her mind. I'm sure she only thought of me as barely more than a good friend. I barely even knew her even though she was the closest I had ever felt to someone. I scoffed at Nadir's idea. Marjorie, so pure and kind, could never love a hideous monster. She wasn't even aware of the gargoyle who hid behind the mask.

She had no idea of my past either, the people I've killed, the horrors I've committed. To her I was a just a mysterious musician who lived in the basement of the opera. I hid myself from her. The man she knew was a lie and it made me feel sick. I made myself look like a fantastical genius to her without even realizing it.

What was I to do? I couldn't possibly hide the truth any longer. I can't tell her either. It would kill her. My world had screeched to a halt. I felt as if the opera was collapsing on top of me. I had ruined everything because I had turned a blind eye. She would surely hear the rumors when the opera opened. I planned on making her the lead pianist and eventually conductor. She had only truly known Erik, not the Phamtom. The rumors would fly about the past and she would learn it all. Nausea washed over me and I barely mustered an apology to Nadir before running from the room.

Blindly, I ran into the main room and down the path on the side of the lake. I felt physically ill and before I could get any further I fell onto my knees at the edge of the lake. I hunched myself over before expelling the contents of my stomach into the water. Sweat formed on my brow as my body continued to heave. When my stomach stopped convulsing, I laid down with my face against the cool marble. I don't think I had ever made myself actually sick before, but my mind felt worse than my body. I breathed in the foul air and clutched my hand to the masked side of my face. I was truly a monster.


	25. Chapter 25

Marjorie's hair was soft against my fingertips as we held each other in the swan bed. Our lips moved together in silence as her hands gripped my chest. The only sound was the whisper of the silk sheets beneath us. It was pure bliss. I could feel all of my fear being washed away with every kiss. I was beginning to feel real, whole.

My lips slowly moved down her neck as her body clung to mine. My heart felt like it was going to burst. Her head fell back and I tangled my hands in her chocolate curls. My lips continued to move on her creamy neck before ice shot down my spine. _Brown_ curls? I pulled away to look at the girl In front of me. Christine smiled back at me with a devilish grin.

My blood was like ice as her voice rang out. I felt as if I'd stuck my head in a bell at Notre Dame. "You cant hide it. I'll be sure that she knows."

Marjorie appeared once again in my arms, but her eyes were wide in horror. She held my mask in her hand and her eyes were fixed on my face. I reached towards her, either to comfort or to take back my mask, but she cried out in terror. Her screams completely broke me. She shoved me away, and backed up like a terrified animal. I was a monster. I had ruined my Marjorie.

* * *

I woke up to the rancid smell of vomit permeating my nose. My head was throbbing and I was freezing. I sat up tenderly before surveying the damage. I was still laying on the edge of the lake. I smelled _and_ looked like the grave, my mask laid is a small puddle of vomit that didn't make it into the lake, and my whole entire body was stiff. Pulling a handkerchief from my pocket, I wiped the mask clean and place it back on my face. The smell was horrible, but bearable enough.

Carefully, I stood up, the whole room spun around me. I felt miserable. Slowly, I began my trudge towards the main room. Marjorie sat at the organ, reading one of the massive piles of sheet music. She didn't notice me and I was glad. I didn't think I could bear looking at her without spilling the truth. Her screams kept replaying in my mind as I slipped down the hallway.

I knocked softly on Nadir's door before letting myself in. I must have looked as terrible as I felt because his eyes widened in surprise when he saw me. It was embarrassing, but I didn't care anymore. "Do you mind assisting Marjorie home? I'm not feeling very up to it."

After he agreed I walked off towards my washroom. I ran the bath and sat in front of my mirror. I looked more gruesome than usual. I took off my mask and washed it gently before placing it next to the others. I then took off my wig and sat it on its form. I gazed at myself miserably. I removed my clothes and left them in a pile. I didn't even care anymore.

* * *

When Nadir returned I was still in the bath although the water was nearly ice cold. He walked right in, a deep frown settled on his face. I paid no mind and kept my eyes closed. "What was all of that about?"

"I do not wish to talk about it, Nadir." I felt myself sinking lower into the water. I wished I had the power to drown myself. I didn't want to function. I felt myself itching for morphine again, but I didn't even want to move.

He sat at the mirror and watched me as I sank lower. "Marjorie was upset she couldn't say goodbye. I told her you had gotten sick. What's wrong?"

"I said I do not wish to talk about it."

"She was worried about you. She said she might stop by later if she has the time."

"I don't want her to see me."

"Be mature, Erik. What is the problem? She cares for you. You know that. It's obvious she loves you."

_"Do not speak that word in my home."_

"Erik, y-"

I submerged myself completely. I didn't want to hear any more. I let the water wash around me as air bubbles floated out of my mouth. I stared up at the distorted ceiling. I opened my mouth and let the rest of the air escape my lungs. The bubbles surrounded me like stars. It was peaceful. I stayed underneath until my lungs were screaming for air. I wished to stay longer but my survival instinct pulled me from the water and left me sputtering for air.

Nadir watched me curiously as I wiped the water from my face. "I've made a terrible mistake, Nadir." He handed me a towel as I stood from the water. I replaced my mask and wig and walked towards the bedroom. Nadir waited outside as I changed.

"What is that?"

"She doesn't even know me. She thinks she does. She knows Erik. Not the Phantom."

"How is that a problem? You are Erik. You may also be the Phantom, but that's not you."

"She doesn't know the things I've done. I'm a _murderer_ Nadir."

"But you had your reasons."

I supposed he wasn't wrong. Piangi was an accident. I actually quite liked the man although his wife, Carlotta, was wretched. There was that horrible oaf of a man, Buquet who would violate the ballerinas and defile my name. There was Lucianna, the girl who had chased after me in Rome. She was merely an accident. I wouldn't exactly say I murdered her, but she died in my wake. She chose to run which led to the fall that took her life. There was the man trapped under the fallen chandelier as well, another accident.

And lastly, the first kill, Javert, the horrid Gypsy man who imprisoned and attempted to molest me when I was barely and adolescent.

Maybe Nadir was right. These murders weren't premeditated except for, perhaps, Buquet and Javert. In fact, they were mostly accidents. But Nadir was wrong when he said it "wasn't me" who committed them. I supposed it was something he just couldn't understand. I am not just Erik. The Phantom isn't just a ploy on my part. I _am_ the Phantom of the Opera.


	26. Chapter 26

Marjorie's stood infront of the door at the top of the steps. She could hear someone moving around in the tiny kitchen. They were probably making breakfast. She had no idea what to do. She didn't have any excuses, she had gotten here too late. She had wanted to get home before dawn had broken, and act as if she was there all night.

Now she stood at the top of the staircase, her mind reaching a complete blank. she was completely trapped. There was the sound of movement and the door opened infront of her. Hey brothers wide eyes mirrored hers. "Marjorie?"

She stared up at him, no words coming to her lips. His stature was intimidating. He was already a head taller than she was and now that she stood on the lower stair, his stance was much above hers. She had never been afraid of her brother, but she had no idea what would happen now.

"Where have you been?"

She stood there, her mind still completely blank. A cold sweat formed on her forehead. She could feel herself go into panic mode. Suddenly, words seemed to pour from her mouth. "I spent the night beneath the opera. There's a lake and the most wonderful man. He plays the organ and sings like an angel and wears a mask and I think I may be deeply in love with him." She slammed her hand to her mouth as soon as she stopped. _You've definitely done it now, you twit._

Marc gazed at her, absolutely dumbfounded. Her shoulders were tense as she waited for him to begin his yelling. The sound that came from him nearly made her fall down the staircase. His shoulders began to shake as laughter poured out of him. His hands fell on her shouldersl as he pulled her up the stairs and into an embrace. She stood there stiffly, thoroughly confused. "What?"

"My god, I've missed you, Marjorie. I haven't heard your humor since you were nearly eighteen. I've missed you so much."

Humor? What? Had she missed something? She pulled from the embrace and looked at her brother curiously. "Humor?"

"A masked man living under the operahouse? Who lives on an underground lake and plays romantic music to our dear Marjorie? What a fanciful idea! I say," he turned to include Celine in the conversation, "have you heard they're rebuilding the old building? A _grand remanier_, I believe they're calling it. Maybe you can take those lessons that you were once so adamant about."

He hugged her shoulders tightly. He thought this was a joke? Just mere humor? A mixture of relief and disappointment washed over her. She was glad that he thought every thing she had just said was just a joke, but then again, she wished he believed her. Feelings she wasn't even aware of had poured out of her mouth, but now that she knew them she wanted everyone to know. She loved Erik. And that was wonderful in her mind because she was nearly sure he loved her too.

* * *

Her whole body ached. Her brother was convinced it was a wonderful idea to drag Celine and her all over Paris even though they had all lived there for their whole lives. They walked everywhere, only stopping when Celine complained about her feet or the baby. Marjorie wasn't so lucky.

She pushed open her bedroom door, leaving the couple their quiet time. She didn't mind, she was tired anyway. She slipped off her dress and loosened her corset, dropping them onto the floor. She pulled on her nightgown and crawled into her bed. She dropped her head onto her pillow and something velvety brushed her cheek. She picked it up and turned on the oil lamp.

In her hands he held a rose. it was one of the most beautiful she had ever seen. Each yellow petal was perfect, their red tips curled out tips curled out perfectly. A yellow rose with red tips; she used to know each color's meaning, but now she couldn't recall. Silently, she crept from her bed and over to her bookshelf. She grabbed a book labeled _Horticulture_ and brought it over to the lamp. She flipped through until she found a dog eared page. She scanned the page until she found it._ Red-tipped yellow roses: friendship, falling in love._

**Erik's POV**

I stood in the street, my eyes fixed on her bedroom window. At least, I hoped it was her bedroom. Finally a flash of blonde caught my eyes. Marjorie stood almost directly in front of the window, her back turned.

At first I couldn't tell what she was doing, but then I caught sight of her light pink corset. I felt a lump form in my throat and my cheeks turn red. I couldn't manage to draw my eyes away. The pink fabric hugged her hips beautifully. Then she pulled the corset from her body. I felt like I'd nearly fall over. I was seeing much too much. I couldn't pull myself away as she shimmied into her nightgown.

Eventually she moved away from the window and I couldn't see her any longer. Blood still pulsed in my ears. I couldn't bear to stand outside of her home any longer. I wished to stay, to see her find the rose, but guilt wracked my mind at what I had just seen. I felt as if I had almost defiled her. It wasn't my fault, I was just an onlooker, but I felt terrible.

Marjorie's lamp flicked on but I turned back towards the opera house. I couldn't be invasive any longer. I wanted to protect her as much as possible. I wished to redeem myself with the rose, but instead I stole her innocence.

That night her body seemed to infect my mind. I tossed and turned as her body danced infront of my minds eye. It felt vulgar and dirty, but I couldn't push the thought away. I craved for every atom of her being. I wanted her pressed against my body. I wanted our every fiber intertwined. I dreamed of her body pressed against mine. I craved for her touch.

We laid in the swan bed together, our bodies intertwined. We moved under the sheets, nothing between us any longer. There was no hate, only love. Our hearts and bodies bared completely to each other. There was no more ugliness. There bodies moved in silence, the air around the map was electifupying. Her hand pressed against his cheek. "Erik." He felt his shoulders being shook.

"Erik."

His eyes fluttered open to see green ones, barely inches away.


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: Hey, everyone! This chapter may be something of a treat. It is the longest chapter I have written so far. (7 pages!) I hope you enjoy it, and PLEASE review! I didn't get very many at all last chapter, so I hope it wasn't a disappointment. Please enjoy the chapter, though!**

Marjorie leaned over me, her eyes sparkling. Her curls hung down around us like a curtain and a wide smile was plastered across her face. Was it already morning? She placed her hand on my forehead, feeling for a temperature. "How are you feeling?"

My skin was flushed from my dream and my pants happened to be fairly _tight_ at the moment. I prayed she didn't notice. I smiled at her though, and adjusted myself under the was a terribly awkward situation. "I feel wonderful." It wasn't a lie, it was wonderful to be woken up by her. But under the circumstances...

"You feel awfully warm. Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"Yes, I believe so. There's no need to worry about me. Now, why don't you fetch us some tea? Let's go on a picnic for breakfast."

"Alright!" She pressed her lips against mine before disappearing into the hallway. I got up and shut the door quickly.

"My god, that was embarrassing."

After I splashed cool water on my face I check in the mirror. My wig is completely askew and my mask nearly about to fall off. It could have been absolutely terrible if she had come in to find me with mask off. I was lucky that I had even gone to bed with it on. Why didn't Nadir even check with me beforehand?

Quickly, I changed my clothes and stepped out of the room. Marjorie stood in the kitchen, packing a small basket with tea and croissants. She turned to smile at me. "Are you sure you're feeling well? It's awfully cold outside. I don't want you getting any sicker."

"I'm fine, really. But we have a lot to discuss. Are you ready to go?"

* * *

I could see the surprise on Marjorie's face as Caesar trotted into the cemetery. It was an easy trip out of the city, no one giving us a second look. The snow was pure and white on the stones, much different from the slush that covered the streets.

"A picnic at the cemetery?"

"I didn't think of you as the type to be afraid of cemeteries. I didn't think you'd mind..."

"No, no, it's fine. Is there someone here you knew?"

"You could say that." My gaze drifted to the huge Daaé monument at the end of the cemetery. It laid cold and dark, much different from the last time I had been here. I could faintly hear the sound of the battle between the Vicomte and myself in the back of my mind. The memory shifted and I saw myself, looking out from within the tomb. I heard myself call out to her fragile form, promising her father's love.

I slipped off from Caesar and helped Marjorie down. "Do you know anyone here?"

"My mother and father. Would...would you like to meet them?" Her hands picked at her dress. Was she nervous?

"I would like that, yes."

The only sound was the snow crunching under our feet as we walked through the cemetery. Marjorie's pace slowed as we got closer to her parents grave. She wrapped her hand around mine as we walked. I watched her face as she gazed ahead. I could see her emotions beginning to show. She looked broken, like a child. I could feel my heart shattering for her.

I couldn't truly understand what she was feeling, although I understood her pain. My mother had never loved me, I knew that. The woman was hateful and cruel. My first and only gift from her was a mask. I had to hide my face from the woman who created it. The only thing I had ever asked of her was a kiss, which she denied. I had eventually driven her to almost complete madness. I then left without a trace, giving her the freedom to a new life.

Marjorie stopped in front of a fairly large monument. _Poirier_ was carved along the top. The tomb looked like a miniature cathedral. It was quite beautiful. Marjorie kneeled down infront of it and wiped off the names. Jacques and Madeline. Her hands shook slightly. "I haven't brought any flowers..."

"Don't worry about it. They would understand."

Silently, I knelt next to her and helped her brush off the stone. When it's finally cleared, she turns her head towards me. Her eyes were damp. I could feel my heart nearly fall to pieces. "I miss them so much, Erik."

"I understand." I didn't know what else to say. She wrapped her hand around mine and stared at the stone. We sat there in silence. "Tell me about them. If you want."

"My mother died when I was sixteen. My father died when I was eighteen. I miss them every day."

"Tell me about the happy things."

Her eyes seemed to glaze over as she began to remember. "My mother liked to read. You could always find her with a book. Always. My father loved her for that. She wasn't like the proper ladies. People say I'm just like her. My parents were madly in love. Their whole lives. They weren't like the sad marriages you see so often, where they barely tolerate each other. I hope I get that lucky." She glanced over at me before continuing. "My mother used to sing to us, my brothers and I. We would all wait in front of the fireplace before bed. She would sing and my father would tell us a story. He was good at that. He made up these stories about a man called Monsieur Bleu. He traveled all over the world. China, America, Portugal, Persia. Everywhere. It was wonderful,"

"I remember being in love with Monsieur Bleu as a little girl. My father would call me Madame Bleu. It was silly, really, but I still find myself thinking of Monsieur Bleu sometimes." She gazed at their tomb, looking but not seeing. Tears rolled down her cheeks. "I miss the way they smelled. I miss the way they'd wake us up with kisses. I miss the way they hugged me. I miss Mother's singing. I miss Papa's stories. But most of all, I just miss _them_."

We sat there in silence after that. I didn't know how to comfort her. I didn't know what to say. The snow swirled around us as if we were one of the stone angels. We just sat there with out hands intertwined. Finally we both seemed to suck in a breath we had both been holding. Wiping her eyes, she grabs the basket. She pulls a large flask full of tea from the folds of fabric.

"Would you like some?"

"Alright."

She continued to dig through the basket. Her hands came out empty. "I forgot the cups..."

"We can share."

"Alright."

We sat there and sipped the tea together. I didn't mind the silence. I don't think she did either. I thought of why I brought her here. I wanted to tell her everything. She _needed_ to know about my past. I couldn't hide it any more. But then she had cried about her parents. And my heart had broken for her. I couldn't possibly tell her now. Not with the tears still damp on her cheeks.

"I think my parents would have liked you. Especially my father. He was very intelligent. Just like you. They'd like that you play music. My mother would have liked to sing with you. She took small roles at the opera, sometimes. She played one of the Three Ladies from the Magic Flute once; that was my favorite role of hers."

Her mother had been a singer in my opera house? I was certain she must have despised me then, despite Marjorie's beliefs. I'm sure I terrorized her, just as I had the others. I vaguely recalled our production of The Magic Flute. It had been a fairly large success. I couldn't recall any of the Three Ladies, though.

We sat in silence again. Our tea had run dry and only crumbs were left from our croissants. Our noses were red from the cold, but neither of us wished to leave. Her hand stayed in mine the entire time. My emotions had welled up until they seemed to be pouring over. I wished to be buried with her, one day. Maybe it was morbid, but that's all I could think of. She had looked at me when she mentioned her parents love. I wasn't sure what it meant, but I begged for it to mean _something_.

I wanted to spend forever with her, even though I knew I never would. I wished to comfort her, to be her shelter. I couldn't steal her away into the opera, though. It would be like hiding the sun from the world. Her radiance struck me to the bone. We were such opposites, although we were the same as well. I was the witching hour when she was a summer's noon. Her brightness pierced my blackness. I couldn't hold in my feelings for her any longer.

"Marjorie...?"

She lifted her head, hey eyes seemed to burn into mine. A forest in an ocean. "Erik?"

"I have something very important to tell you." My feelings couldn't possibly hide any longer. "I...I think...I mean...I..." _I love you._ Was it that hard to muster those three words?

"Erik?"

"I think that perhaps it's in your best interest that you invest in some curtains."

She stared at me blankly. There was no comprehension whatsoever in her expression. _What? Did I actually just say that? _Suddenly, realization flicked across her face She seemed to be both appalled and incredibly embarrassed. I couldn't believe I had said that.

"Oh mon dieu." Our faces were both incredibly red. "You didn't see...everything, did you?!"

"Oh, no! Definitely not!" Y_es you did, you liar._

"I can't believe-"

"I'm terribly sor-"

"How did you ev-"

"I looked away as soon as-"

"Oh mon dieu." Our voices fell in unison. Oh mon dieu, indeed. I was incredibly embarrassed. Not only did I chicken out with my feelings, but I completely embarrassed the both of us.

We sat there in the silence that seemed to constantly befall us. Our eyes were locked on each others. Suddenly, a laugh seemed to bubble up out of her. It was embarrassed and awkward, but so were we. "That is so embarrassing!"

"I honestly had only innocent intentions. I did not wish to see you, or anyone in a state of undress. You have my sincerest apologies." My voice was stiff. My blood was pulsing in my ears and I couldn't think straight. This was terrible. Absolutely horrific. She couldn't possibly hold dpfeelings for me now.

"Don't be so serious, Erik. It's my fault." Her cheeks were still flushed, but a smile was plastered across her face. "This is so embarrassing! I can't stop blushing. I hope I didn't cause you to lose your appetite or something of the sort." Her hands clasped her cheeks that were as red as a tomato.

"Oh trust me, you didn't." _Good job, Erik. You admit you saw her naked AND you enjoyed it? _"Oh goodness, that's not..." She only giggled.

What in God's name was happening? Why wasn't she upset? Appalled? Disgusted? She only laughed as her hands clasped mine. She thought it was funny. I was terribly confused and embarrassed. I felt like running away. I wanted to hide forever in my embarrassment. When her laughter finally calmed, she spoke up.

"So is that what was so important for you to tell me?"

"N-no, no. Actually, I, uh..." How could I possibly say it now? The moment was gone, the seriousness of the moment had disappeared, only to be replaced by silliness. I still wanted to tell her though. Carefully, I placed my hands on her cheeks. Her eyes focused on mine.

"Marjorie Poirier."

"Erik?"

"This is very important, so please listen." She waited patiently as I took a deep breath.

"I think I...I...No, I _know_ that I..."

"Erik."

"Marjorie, I-"

"Erik." Her tone had completely changed. Her voice was a whisper, almost a hiss. Her eyes were wide on something behind me. Her happy expression turned to one of almost horror. Two sets of footsteps sounded, not more than 40 feet away. There were voices as well, both _very_ familiar. Slowly, I turned around and the ground seemed to fall out from beneath me.


	28. Chapter 28

I felt like I was going to throw up.

It was _her_.

The whole world seemed to screech to a halt.

It was _her_.

I couldn't even breathe.

It was _her_.

Marjorie tugged on my arm but I was a statue. I couldn't move. I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe. "Erik. _Let's go."_

I didn't go, though. Her voice was a background noise. My eyes were glued onto them. They didn't notice us. She moved just as gracefully as she had two years before. She was just as beautiful. She wore the blue cloak that she had worn the last time I had seen her here. My heart felt like it had stuttered to a stop.

The boy held her by her waist as they stepped up towards her father's tomb. He rubbed her back gently as she placed the flowers. I felt like fire had been ignited in my veins. She wrapped her arms around him and he held her waist gently. Those should be _my_ hands.

_But you love Marjorie. _

I ignored the voice.

Slowly, I began to stand, ignoring Marjorie's protests and shaking her hands from my cloak. I walked forward until I was hidden behind a tombstone. I could hear them whispering. The _vicomte_ placed a kiss on her lips and I slowly began to step out from my spot. Movement caught my eyes and what I saw nearly made me fall over. A small boy followed by a nurse walked towards the couple. He couldn't be more than 2. He looked just like them.

I stumbled back, back towards Marjorie. I couldn't believe what I saw. It was _their_ child. Christine could never be mine. My heart was racing dangerously fast. I continued to step backwards, my eyes unmoving from them. Suddenly my foot slammed back into something and I found myself falling to the ground. I had tripped over a tombstone. The air was knocked out of my lungs as my back slammed into the ground. A horrible wheezing noise escaped my lungs.

Slowly, I pulled myself up from where I had fallen. I felt like I had a million eyes on me. Everyone stared with a look of either surprise or horror. I could hear Christine's voice ring out in the cold air.

"Oh mon Dieu."

Quickly, I grabbed Marjorie's arm and I began to run from the spot, pulling her behind me. Voices shouted out when they noticed the blonde girl being dragged behind me. The Vicomte shouted the loudest, I could hear him coming after us.

_"Come on, Marjorie!"_

I pulled her arm harder, willing her to hurry. Suddenly, there was a feeling of icy metal pressed to my neck. The Vicomte had caught up to us. He had also drawn his blade. I hid Marjorie behind me as I fixed my glare onto him.

"Let the girl go, you demon."

"It is quite the pleasant surprise to see you here as well, Vicomte."

"Let her go!"

"And why would I do that, Monsieur?"

He pressed his blade even harder against my throat. I drew my blade from its sheath as well. I could hear Marjorie gasp with surprise. I didn't dare leave the opera without some form of protection. I pushed his blade from my neck and pressed mine underneath his chin.

"You monster! How _dare_ you lure this girl into your evil trap!"

"I think that a fight is in neither of our best interests, especially yours, considering how...out of practice you seem." I pushed my blade against his throat.

He shoved my blade away and that's when the metal began to fly. Our blades began to slice at each other, the clanking of metal ringing out in the winter air. Marjorie just watched silently in shock while Christine was equally vocal.

I backed him up against a tomb, our swords slicing the air. He whirled around and hit the butt of the blade into my back, knocking me to my knees. He slung his blade towards my face but I ducked out of the way and stood on my feet.

"Disfigure me further? What is the point?"

Our blades danced as we pushed each other around the cemetery. He kept attempting jabs but I blocked each one. At one point, his blade sliced open my arm quite badly, but in the moment there was no pain, only anger. A deep growling sound seemed to crawl from my throat.

My anger seemed to push me into a blind rage, my sword whirled even faster than what seemed physically possible. My blade slammed against his and it must have found a weak spot because the sword broke in two. I pushed him to the ground and held my sword above his face. I was reminded of the last time in the cemetery. Our stances were completely flipped. Hot blood rolled down my arm. I wanted to destroy his pretty face, and drive the blade right through his skull. He deserved to be ugly, just as I was. He also deserved to be dead.

"Angel, no!" Christine's voice could no longer stop me.

I could hear footsteps behind me. I raised the blade even higher. Tears ran down the vicomte's face.

"Erik." Marjorie's hand found its way onto my face. I stopped dead in my tracks. I turned my head slightly to look at her. My vision was blurred as tears ran down my face as well. "Spare him."

I looked back down at the man crying at my feet. I sucked in a sharp breath before raising the blade once again. I drove it down with all of my force, right into the space next to his head, he was gasping in shock as he stared at the blade and then at me. He must of thought he was delusional. Or maybe he thought I was delusional. "Do not forget I will always have power over you."

I turned to look at Christine. My voice was rigid as I called out to her. "You _will_ sing at my opera house. I will always own you."

I had to leave then. I could barely hold back my emotions. With a flip of my cape, I turned and walked away from the scene, Marjorie close to my side. Eventually I fell to my knees at the side of a stone angel. We were far enough away from the couple to not be seen or heard. I could feel all of my emotions begin to pour out of me. A ragged sob escaped my throat. Marjorie knelt before me and wrapped her arms around me. I gripped the front of her dress as I sobbed into her bosom. I could barely control my breathing as I gasped for air like a dying fish. Sobs continued to rip at my throat. I hadn't cried like this in so long. Not since Christine had left me. I felt like a child as I crumpled into her embrace. Her hands rubbed my back gently.

No one had ever comforted me before. This made my sobbing become even louder. I had so many emotions at once. I felt every single pain from my life being brought to the surface. The loneliness, the whippings, the guilt, the hatred, the ugliness. Everything poured out of me like a broken dam. No one loved me like she did.

My voice was garbled, lacking all of the calm composure I worked towards. "I love you, Marjorie." I was sure she couldn't understand the mess of words that poured from my mouth, but I could've sworn her arms tightened around me when I said it.

I ended up falling asleep in her lap. Or perhaps I had passed out from blood loss, I wasn't sure, but when I woke up I was back at the opera house. I was in my bed, my arm bandaged carefully. My mask was gone.

And I was all alone.


	29. Chapter 29

Marjorie wrung out the washcloth and poured the bloody water out of the bowl. She was worried about him. Today had been terribly long for her, she couldn't possibly imagine how tough it must have been for him. What started out as a good day took a turn for the worst. Now he slept in the other room, his arm bandaged tightly. The cut was deep. She couldn't stop the bleeding after he had passed out in her lap. Her dress was stained red, as were her hands.

Carefully, she cleaned off the dried blood that was smeared on his mask. She hoped he wouldn't be upset she had taken it. She was surprised at what was underneath. The other side of his face was horribly disfigured, his skin was cracked and red, part of his skull showed, surrounded by scarred and distorted skin. His cheek seemed torn and badly healed. The side of his nose seemed to almost melt into his face. His eyebrow was sparse and light in comparison to his other thick, dark eyebrow. She wasn't afraid of him in the slightest, though. He had talked about the hatred he received for his face. She couldn't possibly understand how anyone could treat him like that. She still loved him. She didn't know how anyone could be so superficial to hate someone for something they couldn't change or fix.

She wiped her hands off and refilled the bowl with fresh water. He was crying so hard in the cemetery. She cried too. She was so upset, heartbroken for him, that she couldn't hold her tears in either. She wanted to comfort him forever, she would be his moat, protecting him from all of the cruelty of people. It was at this point that she knew she'd never love anyone else as much as she loved him.

She went to grab another wash cloth when she heard a loud crash come from the other room. It made her nearly jump out of her skin. Quickly, she hurried out into the hallway. There were more crashes and the sound of shattering glass. She ran into the main room to find Erik in a blind rage.

Whole bookshelves laid on the floor, their contents spilled precariously all over the room. Shards of glass laid all over the floor which was a mess of music sheets. Erik stood in front of a beautiful gilded mirror. The look on his face was pure abhorrence. She had never seen him so furious, not even when he was in the cemetery. He dove his fist into his reflection and the mirror shattered around him. He fell to his knees in the pile of glass. He held his face in his bloodied hands. "Oh, Marjorie..."

"Erik?"

His body seemed to go rigid. Slowly, he turned to face me. "M-Marjorie?"

She walked over to him, careful not to fall on anything. She was shocked at the mess he made in such a small amount of time. But she wasn't worried about that at all. She was worried about him. His hands shook violently as he gazed up at her.

"You're s-still here?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" She knelt next to him, careful to stay away from the glass.

"Aren't you scared? Or disgusted? I'm a monster, Marjorie. A hideous creature who doesn't deserve to be in the presence of someone as lovely as you. This horrible, ugly gargoyle in the presence of an angel."

She would have been flattered in any other situation, but Erik meant every word he said about himself. Her heart felt like it was breaking for the millionth time that day. "Why would I be afraid of you Erik? This isn't your fault." She placed a hand on his marred cheek and he cringed slightly. "Your face is not a reason why I wouldn't care for you. It's what's in your heart that matters. You face holds no comparison to how an ugly heart would make me feel."

He stared at her through his tears. He was shaking slightly. His mind seemed to be processing everything she had just said very thoroughly. A dark expression formed on his face. "My heart is ugly too."

"I don't think so."

"You don't know me. My heart is a rotten, broken organ. All I do is cause pain. I am a terrible person, Marjorie."

"You don't see your heart the same way I do. You can never know your heart, Erik. No one can know their own heart. But I know I couldn't possibly love a man with a rotten heart."

"You know nothing of my past."

"I don't need to know your past. Your heart is kind now. It doesn't matter how your heart was before." Slowly, she drew herself closer to him. "I love you, Erik, even if you don't believe me. I love every piece of you. Your heart and your face. Nothing could possibly change my feelings for you."

She leaned in then, and kissed his marred cheek, then his smooth cheek. She kissed every inch of his face. She kissed his nose, his forehead, his jaw, his eyelids. She kissed away the tears that rolled down his face. Finally, she kissed his lips. It was different than those first times. This was the purest form of love she had ever known. She loved every piece of Erik. She loved even the darkest corners of his soul. She had no idea how she could possibly leave him.

"Marjorie..."

Her voice was barely above whisper. "Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime," His body shook as he cried in her arms. "Let me lead you from your solitude..."

"Stop. Please."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"I cannot be lied to again. I can't be hurt again. I am already much too in love with you. It will just hurt more when you leave."

"Who said I'm going to leave? I want to spend forever with you, Erik. I love you more than I could ever love anyone else. You are so much like me and you don't even know it."

"I could never be like you, Marjorie. You are pure and lovely and beautiful. You will find a beautiful husband and have beautiful children. You will die a beautiful death at a beautiful old age and you will look beautiful in your coffin. You will be the most beautiful angel in heaven. And maybe, sometimes, you'd think of me and I'd be a bit more beautiful. You are the closest to heaven I'll ever get."

She stared at him, completely perplexed. Beautiful? She wasn't beautiful. Not nearly as beautiful as Christine. Not nearly as beautiful as the other girls she knew. "I don't want to go to heaven if it means being without you for the rest of forever."

"Stop it, Marjorie. I don't need lies for comfort." He was staring at his reflection in the mirror shards.

"I'm not lying, Erik. I love you and I always will. If you don't want to love me back, I understand, but don't think that _anything_ you say will change how I feel. You ended my loneliness. You taught me how to feel again. You kept me from eating away at myself when I was alone with my mind. So don't you dare tell me how to feel."

"What do you know of loneliness?"

"Plenty." She didn't want to hear any more of his self-depreciation. She was not some untouchable being. She had her sins, her poisons of the mind. She had her pains. And she had the voice as well. The voice that only he seemed to silence. He was a morphine to her, taking away the pain. She crashed her lips against his. No one could love him like she did.


	30. Chapter 30

We sat on my bed together, candlelight flickering off of our skin. The lair was entirely silent except for the sound of our breathing. She held my hand in hers, picking the mirror shards out of it. Every shard was a terrible, dull pain. I regretted all of my anger. Why hadn't I looked to see if she was there before making assumptions?

When she finally cleared my hand, she bandaged it carefully. I found myself staring sat her dress. It was covered in blood. My blood. It was unfortunate. The dress was stunning on her. I liked the way it made her eyes look as if they were sparkling, even when she was concentrating. "I could get you a new one."

"Huh?" She looked up from my hand. "A new what?"

"A new dress. I didn't mean to ruin yours."

She returned to working on my other hand. "You don't need to get me a new dress. I can probably get most of the stains out."

"I want to. You look beautiful in green." She glanced up at me again. She continued plucking the glass from my knuckles. Silence wrapped around us again. That seemed to happen to us a lot. We didn't mind.

When both of my hands were glass-less and bandaged, she kissed them. I felt like my heart would pop. She was so _kind_. I couldn't fathom how she loved me. She could court any man, yet she was adamant about me for some reason.

"I love you, Marjorie." I wasn't sure I had ever told her that. At least not that I could remember. I talked about loving her, but I hadn't told her the actual words. I thought I might have mumbled something of the sort in the cemetery, but I was sure she hadn't heard me.

"I know." A smile creeped onto her face. "I love you, too."

She laid down and curled up next to me on the bed. Hesitantly, I wrapped my arms around her. She snuggled up even closer to me. It was almost like an out of body experience. I could've never imagined being this close to someone. I could never imagine that I'd actually be holding this girl in my arms. The gorgeous girl who stumbled into my lair months ago who I almost let drown.

She propped her head up on my chest and watched my face. Her eyes were the most beautiful green I had ever seen. It was almost saddening when she let them flutter closed. She rested her ear against my chest. "I can hear your heart beat. I like it. It reminds me of a clock. Or a metronome. Thump thump thump. It's like music."

I watched as she listened to my heartbeat. I wondered if ours beat in time. She tapped her fingers across my chest in an invisible melody. It was so peaceful to just be relaxing with her. We weren't doing anything, just enjoying others presence. There was something special about it.

I could tell she was beginning to fall asleep when her hand began slipping from my chest. I didn't blame her. She snuggled close to me, her curls pressed to my nose. I liked the way she smelled. It was like vanilla and apples and old books. I hoped her smell would never become familiar to me, only so I could smell it and love it every time I was near her. She smelled like me as well, roses and candles. I didn't know how to feel about that. She spent so long down in the lair, the scent had grown on her.

"Sing me a song. Please?" Her voice was soft.

"Okay." I searched my mind for a song. I couldn't think of any I knew, but one began to form in my head.

_"No one would listen_

_No one but her_

_Heard as the outcast hears._

_Shamed into solitude_

_Shunned by the multitude_

_I learned to listen_

_In my dark, my heart heard music._

_I longed to teach the world_

_Rise up and reach the world_

_No one would listen_

_I alone could hear the music_

_Then at last, a voice in the gloom_

_Seemed to cry "I hear you;_

_I hear your fears,_

_Your torment and your tears."_

_She saw my loneliness_

_Shared in my emptiness_

_No one would listen_

_No one but her_

_Heard as the outcast hears_

_No one would listen_

_No one but her_

_Heard as the outcast hears..."_

I watched as her body rose and fell with each breath. She snored. It was quiet, but it was still there. I liked it. I wanted to spend forever laying next to her. I wished I was normal. I wanted to give her a normal life. I wanted to live with her in the outside world. I wanted to marry her. I wanted to be able to walk home from work and greet her with a kiss. I wanted to give her as many children as she wanted. But the basement of an opera house was no place to raise children. It was no place to live at all. I could never be the lover she wanted.

I wished she would find a real man instead of a monster. I wanted her to be happy. I didnt understand why she was so set on loving me. I cursed my wretched face. If only I could be _normal_. I could give her everything she wanted. But if it weren't for my face, I probably would have never known her. I would have never known any of this pain either. It was a conflicting, vicious cycle. I could never change my face. I knew that. But there was no denying that I wished I could.

* * *

I woke up to soft lips being pressed against mine. My eyes fluttered open to find green ones gazing back into mine. She pulled away, a smile spread across her face. She cupped my face in her hands and kissed me again. She voice was as smooth as honey. "Hello."

"Is this a dream or real life?"

"I wouldn't mind either one."

"Me neither."

I hugged her tightly to me. I wished I could spend forever and a day in bed with her. But of course, we couldn't, and I needed to get her home soon. A sat up and stretched. She stayed reclined on the bed. She snuggled against my pillows. "Do I have to leave?"

"I'm afraid so, ma chérie."

"Why can't I stay the night?"

"Because your brother would have my head and he doesn't even know who I am."

A pout formed on her lips as she sat up. She dropped her head onto my shoulder, eyes gazing up at my face. "Will you at least come over for supper?"

"Supper?"

She gave me a look as if I were stupid. "An evening meal compo-"

"I know what supper is, Marjorie. But do you really want me to come over for supper? With your brother and his wife?"

"Yes. Why else would I ask?" She rolled her eyes and the pout retuned to her lips. "Please?"

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"I do."

"Marjorie, honestly, don-"

"Were in this together, Erik. Remember? If you want this to be serious then we have to make it serious. And if you want to make it serious, you _have_ to meet my brother. You have to."

I let out a deep sigh. Leaving the opera house was definitely not something I wanted to do. But Marjorie was right. If I wanted our relationship to becom anything, I would have to meet her family. I couldn't hide forever. "Alright, alright."

She leaned in and placed a kiss on my lips. "Thank you."

We stood from the bed together and she disappeared into the other room. I walked to my mirror. It was cracked from my outburst, but it wasn't completely shattered like the one in the main room. I stood in front of it and gazed at my torso, visible in my large shirt. I had put on a lot of weight since I had met Marjorie. I didn't look like a sickly skeleton anymore. I was still very thin, but my clothes had begun to fit properly once again. I was happier too. The grey tone my skin had taken on from the morphine and loneliness had become my normal pale olive tone again. I had all rights to believe she had saved me.

I slipped on my wig with ease and changed into more suitable clothes. I tied my cravat with a few flicks of the wrist and I pulled on my jacket. I felt different somehow, looking at myself in the mirror. I actually felt somewhat...handsome. Marjorie's words kept running through my head. She wasn't afraid of my face. She had kissed it without a drop of hatred. Happiness bubbled in my veins.

She walked back in, my mask in hand. She kissed my marred cheek and handed it to me. "I'm sorry I took it off of you, especially without your permission. But I love you, no matter what. You don't need to hide around me, Erik"

I replaced the mask on my face and looked at myself in the mirror. Marjorie stood at my side. We looked like polar opposites. Her light hair and pale skin shone radiantly against my dark hair and clothes. Her hand grabbed mine and she smiled brightly. She truly was stunning.

* * *

We stood at the top of the steps in the bakery, nervousness flooded my body. I could hear her brother and his wife talking through the door. I couldn't possibly do this. I was going to die. I was ready to sink into a puddle on the staircase. The only thing that kept me from falling over was her grip on my hand. She smoothed my jacket with her hands and smiled.

"It will be fine."

_No it won't._

She pressed her lips against mine once more before pushing the door open.

_Here goes nothing_.


	31. Chapter 31

The look on her brothers face when she walked in with a man was hilarious. It was even funnier when he saw that the man wore a mask.

"Close your mouth. You look like a fish." His mouth popped shut. She stepped into the room and pulled Erik along. She could tell how nervous he was. His gloved hand seemed to have a death grip on hers. She rubbed the back of his hand gently.

"So, um, Marjorie, who is this?" Celine came out of the kitchen and stood next to him. She was equally surprised, but at least she was polite enough to keep her mouth closed.

"This is Erik. We're uh..."

"We're courting." Erik stepped forward and shook Marc's hand. He kissed Celine's hand as well. They shot each other a look. "It is a pleasure to meet you both. Marjorie has told me a lot about you."

Marc cleared his throat and pulled on a smile. "Um, yes, a pleasure." He looked at Celine before leading the group into the sitting room. After sitting, he have Erik a pointed look. "So, Erik, what is it you do for a living?"

What _did_ Erik do for a living? She was fairly certain he didn't have a job, but where did all of his things come from? And how could he afford to buy her new dresses like he wanted to?

"Well, I'm an architect and a composer. I'm actually working on a new opera at the moment. I also used to be a magician, but that was quite some time ago. I'm a long-time patron of the Opera Populaire, as well." He folded his hands politely in his lap. A _magician_?

"Those are quite the outlandish careers! May I ask how well the magician business is? Or rather, was?"

"Well I was a fairly good magician. I've been called the best in the trade many times. People from all over the world came to see me. I traveled a lot, especially Persia. I built a palace in Manzenderan for the Shah during my time there. They thought it was so grand that they ordered me blinded, and later executed, just so no one else could have such a palace. I fled with the help of my good friend Nadir, the Daroga of Persia, another patron at the opera, actually. I later traveled to Constantinople, South Asia, and many other places until I found my place back here in France, my home." His visible cheek reddened. "I apologize, that was quite a bit more heady than I had intended."

We all sat there with our mouths agape. I had no idea about any of this. I was shocked he had never told me any of this. He had to be making this up, but somehow, I was convinced he wasn't. Nadir was Persian, and I knew Erik often referred to him as Daroga. I saw some of his blueprint drawings in his workroom. I knew he was quite good with trickery, but a famous magician? This seemed all too surreal.

Marc cleared his throat, ending our stunned silence. "So, why the mask?"

"Marc!"

"Well it's awfully gaudy. It must be a pain to wear. Does it have something to do with your magician days? Because it's fairly...ridiculous looking. It reminds me quite a bit of gypsies or performers. Why do you wear it?"

I glared at him. "That's a touchy subject for Erik."

"No, it's alright Marjorie." He looked to her brother. "I was born with a facial deformity. It is quite hideous. I find it best that I cover it up as not to...scare people."

"Can we see?"

"Marc!" She slapped her brothers leg. He was so incredibly rude! Why would he ask him that? "You are so rude!"

He ignored her protests. "Well, can we?"

"Um, I'd rather-"

"Erik is not a side show performance for you! Let him be."

"I just wanted to-"

"No!" _Smack_.

Céline leaned in, ignoring the bickering between the two. "So how long have you known Marjorie?"

Erik seemed please to be talking about something other than his face. He leaned back in his chair, seemingly counting in his mind. "A few months, I believe."

A smile spread across Celine's face. "How did you two meet?"

"I met her at an audition. I'm sure you've heard about the rebuilding of the Opera. She was auditioning for an orchestra role and I was renewing my patronship. I heard her play and I knew in that instant I had to know her. She is the only person I know whose music rivals mine. We both connected over our love for music, although I'm much more fond of the organ. I'm sure she's told you about how she is the new lead pianist for the Opera."

She stared at him. She was what? There was no audition, how could she possibly be the lead pianist? She had met Erik when she snuck into his home and nearly drowned herself. She looked at Erik and he winked at her. It was a quick movement, only she noticed it.

"We had no idea! Why didn't you tell us that before?" Céline grabbed her hand and smiled.

"I guess I just...forgot?"

"Forgot? How could you forget something like that? This is your dream, Mars!" Marc's voice boomed out. He was much too excited. You'd think the china would start rattling.

Celine piped up, her voice was tiny compared to her husband's. "Oh, could you both play us a song? You know how much I love your music."

"The piano is terribly out of tune... And Erik hands today." she gave him a pointed look. "Remember?" She was starting to get nervous. There was so much conversation at once. Her mind felt like it was going to explode. She didn't want to play in front of everyone anyway.

"My hands are fine. And why didn't you tell me that? I could fix it. Weren't you there the day I tuned my piano?"

"I forgot? And I don't think so..."

"Please, just one song, Marjorie?"

"You could play that one you used to like so much."

"Please?"

"I think it goes something like..."

"I'd rather not..."

"Please?"

She could feel her breathing begin to speed up. All the voices were stressing her out. It was times like these when the Voice would come out, usually yelling. "Excuse me." She stood quickly and smoothed her cloak. She was starting to sweat. "I need a drink..."

She hurried of to the kitchen. She couldn't handle the noise much longer. It drove her wild. She hurried over and poured herself a cup of tea. She leaned over the counter and tried to catch her breath. She forgot how toiling people could be.

Erik came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Are you alright?"

"I just feel a little ill..." That was a lie. She felt very ill. The voice had begun to ramble in the back of her mind. It was a dull roar that kept her focus completely distracted. A migraine was beginning to form already.

She wrapped her arms around Erik, breathing in his smell. It calmed her extensively. He was almost like a drug to her. He wrapped his arms around her as well. The pain ebbed away slightly, but it was still there.

"People are difficult."

"I completely understand."

Eventually she pulled away from his embrace and drank the rest of her tea, burning her tongue. Erik leaned against the counter. It was almost surreal to see him in her house. He was so grand against her tiny kitchen. "Would you just like to go to bed? I can leave early."

"No, no. You have to stay for dinner, I'll be alright." She wrapped her arms around him again. "But could you tune the piano? I want to play it with you."


	32. Chapter 32

She closed her eyes as she reclined on the love seat. Her brother and his wife were cleaning up from supper while Erik sat at the piano, tuning it carefully. Her migraine had finally subsided and her mood was much better, especially now that she was out of the dirty dress.

Slowly, she got up and walked over to the piano. She sat down next to him, the old bench creaking slightly. Resting her head on his shoulder, she looked up at him. "Were you telling the truth when you said I'm going to be the lead pianist?"

"If that is what you wish, then I can make it so."

"Oh, yes! But...there wasn't any audition. And I'm sure you could find another person for the role. Don't they only want men?"

"I think you are forgetting that it is my opera house we are discussing. I run that theater and what I say goes. Anything you want, I can make happen."

"Well what about all those things earlier?"

"What things?"

"About being a magician. And building palaces. And almost getting blinded and executed until Nadir helped you. And going all over the world. were those all true?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

"You never asked." He shrugged and replaced the panel on the piano. "I've also lived in Rome. I was kidnapped and placed in a gypsy freaks how as a boy. I was even an assassin." She gaped at him in wonder. How did he manage all of these things? She was sure they'd drive her mad with all of the complexities. "I am also a master ventriloquist."

This intrigued her. "Could you show me?"

Erik cleared his throat and smiled at her. His voice came from across the room, seemingly from an open book.

_"When down her weedy trophies and herself_

_Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide; _

_And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up: _

_Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes; _

_As one incapable of her own distress, _

_Or like a creature native and indued_

_Unto that element: but long it could not be_

_Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, _

_Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay_

_To muddy death."_

Marjorie darted across the room to see the book. It was as if his voice was pouring from the pages. The copy of Hamlet that that sat on the mantle was open to the exact page he was quoting from. She spun on her heels to look at him. "How did you do that?"

He waved his fingers at her. "I told you I was a magician."

She walked back over and sat next to him. "But really! How did you do that?"

"Lots of practice, just like any other skill. I'm sure you weren't born with an existing knowledge of how to play the piano."

"You'd think she was." Marc leaned in the doorway, watching us. "Did she tell you about the time when she was 4?"

"Oh Marc, please don't. That's embarrassing!"

"We were getting our piano tuned one day, and of course, Marjorie was agitated that she wouldn't be able to play. I swear that's all she would ever do. Our parents were working downstairs and it must have been a fairly busy day because she snuck out without anyone noticing. Anyway, she wandered around Paris for hours and eventually ended up at this house outside of Paris, 3 miles away. We looked everywhere for her. She ended up playing the piano in this old countess' home. Her face was covered in jelly from stealing pastries from their tea room. The countess didn't mind though, she was actually quite enamored with her skill. Even though her piano was left awfully sticky."

Her cheeks were red when he finished the story. Erik wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Well I'm glad you didn't wander off this time."

"I have something else to keep me distracted." She smiled up at him.

Marc rolled his eyes and pretended to gag. "And you call me the hopeless romantic."

Celine walked up behind him and smiled. "Will you play for us now?"

"I don't see why not..." She looked up at Erik before positioning her hands above the piano. His hands mimicked hers, awaiting their cue. She took a breath before delving into the song. She had waited what felt like her whole life to play this with him. Her hands knew every note. She needn't even think, only let her hands do the work. _Past The Point of No Return..._

It was like magic when he began playing with her. The melody became twisted into some sort of complex and unbearably sensual symphony. The whole room felt as it was wrapped in flames as their hands flew across the keys together. She felt as if she was on fire. Every molecule of her being felt as if it had imploded and scattered with his. She could feel the electricity sparking between them. She could feel every inch of her skin as if it had become electrified. She felt as if she was spontaneously combusting.

The music wrapped around them, licking at them like flames. She had never felt anything like this in her life. She _needed_ him. She felt incredibly exposed, as if every inch of her being was exposed to him. She _loved_ it. She felt like Joan of Arc being burnt at the stake. She couldn't possibly deny the music's power over her body. She never felt so _unchaste_. She couldn't refuse it any longer. An animalistic creature felt as if it was bursting from her flesh. Erik seemed as if he couldn't deny it either. They danced with the devil, dipping their feet in the waters of hades. The music consumed them in a flame of passion.

When the song finally came to its end their breathing was a deep, husky grumble. She instantly regretted the song as her guests sat in stunned silence. Guilt filled her mind. She hadn't _done_ anything wrong, but she felt as if she had destined herself for some sort of unholy agony. The flames in the room lowered to a deep flicker. Something inside of her had changed. The song only spoke truth when it mentioned the sleeping bud bursting into bloom. Their was a deep, roaring flame inside of her that had never been lit before. Erik was the only one who could extinguish it.

Once again, they had truly past the point of no return.

* * *

They stood in the bakery, the door open and pushing in cold swirls of wind. Celine had already said her goodbyes as she excused herself for bed. Her brother and Erik had stayed up, chatting about Erik's many marvelous adventures over brandy. She had sat on the armchair, just enjoying the sound of his voice.

She wrapped her arms around Erik's tall frame. Her skin was still hypersensitive. She felt as if could feel everything beneath his coat, as if there was no fabric between them. Her lips came up to his ear, her voice quiet so only he could hear. "Stay the night. I'll leave the window unlocked."

He shot her a worried look before gaining his composure and disengaging from the embrace. He turned to her brother, who leaned in, and spoke quietly before stepping away and shaking his hand. She couldn't tell what he had said, but they smiled warmly together over some unspoken promise. Erik gave his last goodbye before stepping out into the darkness. She knew he would wait underneath the fire escape, awaiting his access into her bedroom.


	33. Chapter 33

His palms were sweaty in his gloves, but not from the leather. He was perched the fire escape, waiting for her light to go out. He wasn't sure what to expect when he steps through the window, but his blood was racing.

The moment they had shared at the piano was breathtaking. It was a passion he hadn't experienced since he originally wrote the song. Every note aligned with its meaning perfectly. There was a deep, roaring desire pushing them together. The desire was no longer one sided, but a definite harmony between them.

He waited in the cold until her light was finally turned down. Silent as a ghost, he walked almond the damp iron until he stood before her window. She stood on the other side of the glass, her body shimmering in the moonlight. Top her nightgown hung loosely around her like a veil of smoke. She pushed open the window and the cold air made her clothing billow out behind her like a cloud, pushing against her most defined curves. Silently, I stepped into the room.

Her arms enveloped my instantaneously. The heat of the moment at the piano still felt fresh on my skin. Her creamy skin was shrouded by her light curls, her eyes shone out like emeralds hidden behind dark lashes. The moonlight was surreal. Her skin practically glowed in the moonlight. If a bystander were to see us, we could both be mistaken for phantoms.

Gently, cautiously, she pulled me towards her bed. I could feel the blood race between us. I was nervous, incredibly so, but her eyes didn't stray from mine. Slowly, we sank into her bed. My cape had been discarded somewhere in the moment. I was perched over her as I lowered my lips down to meet hers.

A long held breath seemed to escape both of us. I let my chest sink against hers, as our lips moved together in a silent symphony. All of our emotions seemed to be free from where we held them in. I loved every inch of her. I needed no one but her. I trailed kissed down her jaw until I made it to the crook of her neck. I wanted to taste every inch of her flesh, wondering if it was just as sweet as she was. Her chest rose and fell in short bursts as I trailed my lips down her shoulder from her ear and back up.

"Don't ever leave me." Her voice was a mixture of huskiness and innocence. I continued to place kisses all over her neck. I would never leave her. Not unless she wanted me gone. My hands trailed down the curvese of her hips. For so long I had dreamed of learning their shape, all restricting fabric gone. There was only a thin layer of fabric seperating our flesh.

"I belong to you." My lips moved against her ear. I loved the way she smelled. I felt as if I could get drunk off of her scent alone. Her hands were soft on the back of my neck. Slowly they moved down to my chest. She pawed at my coat buttons blindly. I tugged it off with ease and held her closer. I could feel her body heat radiating against mine.

Her hand gripped mine and she pulled it to her breast. I could hear her breathing hitch while mine stopped completely. I completely froze. My hand cupped her supple flesh. She pushed her body against mine, attempting to elicit a reaction. Her hands began to slide lower than my chest. In the next moment, I found myself nearly completely across the room. My blood was still pumping in my ears and my head was spinning. Marjorie's hurt gaze met mine.

"Did I do something wrong?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. Her reddened lips trembled. I felt as if I created an impassible frozen barrier between us.

"No, no!" In fact she had done too much _right_. I cleared my throat anxiously. "I just...I don't feel right taking your innocence at such an...untimely moment." I came over to the bed slowly. Piano took her face in my hands, cupping her soft cheeks. "I love you Marjorie. That's why I couldn't possibly do this now. It's not proper. I'd feel guilty forever."

"But I want you, Erik. I love you. This is my gift to you. I don't want to spend my life with anyone else but you. I want to give myself to you wholly." She placed her hands ontop of mine and gazed up into my eyes.

"But why now? There is no reason to move so quickly."

"Do you not want me? Is it because of my body? Or the way I look?"

I stared at her in surprise. She thought I didn't want her? Because of her body or her looks? Didn't she know how much she drove me wild? How could I ever criticize someone for their looks? I gripped her face and moved my face close to hers. "Don't ever believe that I resent your looks, Marjorie. You are beautiful. Can't you see how much you drive me wild?"

"But I will never be as beautiful as _her_." I could hear the resentment in her voice. Her? I realized in shock that she meant Christine.

"But it's not Christine who I love. It is you." I brought her close. "There is no judgement in your heart, Marjorie. It is true that I loved her. I called out for her, but she didn't accept me. You did. You listened."

She didn't say anything, but she buried her face in my chest. I pulled her back on the bed and wrapped my arms around her. The silence was back again. Like always, we didn't mind. You could hear her brothers snoring from down the hall. Her hands gripped my shirt tightly, her curls splayed across my chest. Her mumble barely made it to my ears. "Don't ever go. Please."

"I won't."

* * *

**Marjorie's POV**

The darkness surrounded her. It was cold, freezing, peaceful. Her body sloshed around gently. Her nightgown floated around her. It looked like the seaweed that grabbed at her ankles every so often. There was no need for air. Her voice rang out like an echo. She called for him, but she was all alone. She wasn't afraid anymore. His arms were gone, but somehow she knew he was out there. She could sense him. His form lurked in the darkness.

His arms wrapped around her from behind. His mask shone out like a beacon in the night. Her heart fluttered in her chest. His eyes were as black as night in the water. She couldn't deny herself any longer. She pulled his face to hers, their lips meeting.

There was something wrong.

Something _terribly wrong._

His lips were cold. As were his hands. All of him was cold. His blue eyes were black and dim. His lips were unmoving against hers. His arms floated limply, bumping her waist. His skin was grey and pallid. She shook his shoulders. He continued to float limply. Horror took over her mind. _He was dead._

She tried to scream but water flooded her lungs. She attempted to gasp for air, but all there was was infinite water. She clawed at the water, begging for surface, but cold hands grabbed at her ankles. Hundreds of icy hands raked at her legs, pulling her down. She reached for Erik's lifeless form, but there was nothing and the hands completely seized her.

* * *

She woke up in a cold sweat, crying out in fear. Her hands searched the bed. He was bed was cold. He had been gone for a long time. His cloak remained, once wrapped around her but now in a crumple at the end of the bed. Icy air from the open window bombarded her. She was freezing.

She pulled the cloak around her shoulders. Candle wax and roses. It smelled like him. Tears welled up in her eyes. He always seemed to be gone when she needed him most. She _needed_ him. She _needed_ to know air still moved through his lungs. She _needed_ his warm arms wrapped around her. She _needed_ his lips against hers. But, like always, she was alone.


	34. Chapter 34

I paced along the balcony of Box 5. It was quite early, before the sun was even up. Work sounds echoed all around the theater. It was nearly finished. it was becoming quite grand, indeed. A newly crafted chandelier from Italy was expected to arrive any day now. The men had begun working nearly two hours early today, so they could get off for Christmas the next week.

Christmas. I had barely remembered it was a holiday, much less existed. I had never bothered with it, save for a few gifts for Christine. I was not a religious man. I had been once, when I was a boy, but that was many years ago. The holiday meant nothing to me. I had never received any gifts at any point in my life, so what was the point of celebrating a gift giving holiday?

But this Christmas needed to be special. I would spend it with Marjorie. I wondered if she would give me a gift. I was sure she would. I didn't particularly want anything, she was enough for me, but I knew if I said anything she would insist. I wondered if she was religious. I cringed slightly at the idea of her requesting my presence at a church on Christmas. I wondered, jokingly, if I'd burst into flames upon my entrance.

But the Church was not my main concern. I hadn't the slightest idea what to get Marjorie. The gift needed to be grand. It had to _mean_ something. I wracked my brain for anything. Marjorie didn't wear jewelry, apart from her locket. Flowers were too simple, and they didn't last. I considered writing a whole opera, but my time was short. I could possibly pull one together, but I wasn't sure I could make it in time and it would end up a sloppy mess. I came up completely empty. Perhaps I could buy her a new piano.

Eventually I sank into the chair. The previous night continued to play through my mine. She had given me everything and I denied her. I didn't want to admit it, but I was incredibly embarrassed. I didn't have the slightest idea what to do. I still caught myself blushing. I didn't want to do anything wrong. The night was everything I could've dreamt of, yet I gave it away. I couldn't possibly steal away her innocence. Loving her in that way felt so _wrong_. She was so pure and innocent, I couldn't bear to destroy that.

I returned to the idea of Marjorie's gift, shrugging off my negative thoughts. There _was_ an idea I had been pondering for quite some time. It was ridiculous, and perhaps a bit insane, but I had a feeling it would be the perfect gift for her. There were a few things I had to do before hand, including a very important trip to the cemetery. But, before I could begin working on her gift, I had to deliver a letter to my managers. They would learn, unfortunately for them, that the Opera Ghost was not as dead as he seemed.

**Marjorie's POV **

She stood in the foyer of the opera house, gazing up at the ceiling. It had been restored to its former glory, if not exceeding that. Her eyes were brought down when the two managers had stormed out of their office in a flurry of incomprehensible shouts. The short one with a balding problem was especially loud, waving around a sheet of paper. She instantly recognized it as one of Erik's notes, almost exactly like the one in her hand. Erik had requested her presence to meet the managers and claim her spot in the orchestra.

"Messieurs?"

They both spun on their heels to look at her. "Madame! We ar-"

"Mademoiselle."

"Right. Our apologies. We are not open at this time. We must ask you to-"

"I am well aware of that, messieurs. I've come here to meet about my position."

They both paled slightly and looked at each other. They turned their heads to gawk at her. The short one scoffed and the taller one looked incredibly confused. "You are our lead pianist? A woman?"

"I beg your pardon?" She was quite offended by this. Was it some shock that a woman cold play the piano well?

The tall one cleared his throat. "I apologize Madame, but we just weren't expecting a woman. This is quite a surprise indeed. We had only just learned about-"

"Mademoiselle. And is there something wrong with my being a woman? I was under the impression women could play just as well as men."

"Oh, no! That's not what we meant! We just-"

"I don't need apologies, Messieurs. I just need to know when practices will begin. I would also like to request the score."

"We've actually just received an abrupt change to our plans. It was originally going to be Aida, but it has since been replaced by The Magic Flute due to _certain_ requests." She couldn't help but smirk at that. She was quite proud of Erik's ways although you could call them corrupt. "I'm afraid we have the scores put away in a storage room at the moment."

"I could look for them, if you don't mind. I know my way around here well." That was a lie. She knew barely any of the opera house. She knew the few ways to Erik's lair but that was all.

"If you insist, Madame, but we have more important things to deal with at the moment." They both hurried off after that, returning to their bickering.

"Mademoiselle." She sighed and looked around. She hadn't the slightest idea where to go.

She eventually found herself in the storage room, branching from the hall of dressing rooms. It was packed to the gills with boxes and old, dusty props and costumes. Some of the boxes were labeled, but most weren't. This would be a while.

* * *

While she was arm deep in a box, there was a ghostly humming in her ear. She spun around, clasping her hand to her throat. There was no one behind her. She could hear Erik's laugh as if he were right in her ear. But no one was there. "Erik?"

"Hm?" His voice echoed from the box. He was still nowhere to be seen.

"Where are you?"

"Right here." He placed his hands on her waist from behind. They were cold. She spun on her heels again and glared up at him. His shoulders were dusted with snow and his cheek was wind bitten.

"Don't do that!" She hit his chest playfully.

"I'm sorry." A coy smile played at his lips. "I trust my managers treated you well?"

A wave of anger brushed over her. "Is it that strange that a woman can play the piano? Honestly! They were completely dumbstruck when they realized that I was going to be the pianist. They have a big surprise coming if they don't think a girl can play. And they kept calling me Madame! I am a mademoiselle, thank you very much! Do I look like a Madame to you? I'm not married! And do I even look old enough to be called that? Do I look like a married woman? And why are your hands so cold?!" She pushed his hands off of her waist and pouted.

He seemed very amused with her rant. "I was outside." He leaned over and pulled the score right from the top of a box. "Is this what you're looking for?"

"Yes!" She flipped through the pages before looking up at him. "Did you change the opera?"

He didn't answer, but he smiled. "Will you come play the organ with me today?"

"I can't." Her lips tugged into a frown. "I have to help Marc and Celine pack."

"They're leaving already?"

"They want to have Christmas at home, in case the baby comes along." She smiled. "Nice is very lovely in winter, although it's a shore town. I'm excited to stay."

Distress flashed across his face. "You aren't staying In Paris?"

"I can't. I'm seeing my brothers. We stay in Nice every Christmas. We have since I can remember. We could celebrate New Years together."

"No, no, that is the night of the masquerade. When will you be coming back?"

"The 27th."

Anger flashed in his eyes. He furrowed his brow. I could see the gears turning in his head. He began to pace the dusty floor. She watched him as he thought, her brows furrowing. "Perhaps it is best we celebrate afterwards..."


	35. Chapter 35

_"Merde!"_ I paced around the lair, occasionally knocking things over. My wig was completely disheveled. I had seen Marjorie off just an hour ago and I could barely hold over my anger. Her brother apologized profusely when I spoke to him in private. I wasn't angry at him, her, or anyone in particular, I wasn't even angry at the fact I'd spend Christmas alone. I was angry, nearly furious, that her gift had been ruined by this trip. Sure it would mean the same thing otherwise, but it was Christmas that made it even more special. I had already planned it out entirely and now it was put to waste.

Then, in an instant, an idea began to shove its way into my mind. It all seemed to fall into place instantaneously. I could go to Nice myself to see her on Christmas. I would send a letter to her brother, alerting him of the visit and requesting his help to meet Marjorie somewhere special. I would take the next morning's train, and I could stay in an inn. I would have to go shopping immediately then, I had no time left if I was leaving within the next hour.

Another idea burst in my mind. I ended my pacing and hurried into my bedroom. There was a small chest near my wardrobe that held my most important things that weren't displayed. It creaked when I opened it. I had refused to touch it since the night Christine left. I picked up the small piece of silver and turned it in my fingers. It didn't hold any pain like it would have a few months ago. It was still just as lovely. For a moment it bothered me that I was reusing it, but there was no sense in waste. I had labored over it for so long until it reached perfection. I was positive it would fit as well.

I stood from the chest and placed it in my pocket. I would go back to the drawing board and plan it out until it reached perfection. Every single movement would be precise. It had to be. I would not make the same mistake I made with Christine. I would make sure of that.

**Marjorie's POV**

Her eyes swam across the sprawling snow that seemed to fly by. She was already deathly bored. She felt bad for leaving Erik. He had seemed so excited to celebrate Christmas with her. Now he would be alone. Nadir had left for the holiday and she didn't think he had any other friends. She knew she should have invited him, but she was worried what her brothers might think. Erik was so fragile when it came to his self esteem. He absorbed every little thing and twisted it until it worked against himself. Besides, Marc had already made ridiculous comments about the mask, and he was the most polite of her brothers.

Her eyes drifted over to her brother and his wife. They were whispering almost silently, much too quiet for her to hear. His hand was wrapped around hers and their heads were close. She tried to imagine herself in a relationship like theirs. She loved Erik, but she couldn't see them in such a _normal_ relationship. Erik was so used to his underground lifestyle, she hadn't the slightest idea how he would function in normal society.

She had also considered the other option of joining his world. She would abandon the light in favor for the darkness. His home was comforting, but it was only an escape from the real world, as if it was a whole other realm. She wasn't sure she wanted that. She tried to imagine a life with him, in the darkness. It was dark and romantic, but she wasn't sure abandoning the light was the right thing to do. She wanted a life just like everyone else. She dreamed of having children, but was that even a place to raise children? She wasn't even sure if Erik wanted children. She loved him, but how much could she sacrifice for him?

She pulled her mind from the grim topic. She was happy now and that was what was important. She wouldn't have to worry about marriage for a _long_ time, anyway. She looked at the score that laid forgotten next to her. Erik had given her that along with another pile of music to keep her entertained on the trip. She picked up the stack of music and gazed down at the notes. There were small notes written in the margins that she, the night before, realized were her mother's. She didn't know whether Erik gave that particular set to her on purpose or not, but she had a feeling he did. She held the pages close to her chest and returned her gaze to the window.

They still had hours before they even reached Aix, but she was glad that the snow was beginning to slowly disappear. As much as she loved Paris and the snow, she had grown sick of it. She hoped the weather would be fairly warm. She rested her head on the window, it was cool against her forehead. The train rocked gently, and eventually she found herself falling asleep.

* * *

She knew she was in a dream, but at the same time she wasn't sure. It started hazy, her eyes slowly blinking open to the stone ceiling above her. She was in the swan bed. Her feet were silent as she crept out towards the doorway, yells and splashing echoing off of the stones. Quietly, she pushed away the curtains, the acrid smell of smoke hitting her nose. Erik was in the lake, dragging along a small girl dressed in a Spanish costume. The boat stayed halfway to the dock, left behind in the water. His mask and wig were gone, and his face was twisted into an expression of pure malice. Despite his anger, he looked much younger and much less aged by his troubles. He yanked the girl by her arm and her head swiveled around, her dark curls bouncing. Marjorie gasped when she realized it was Christine, the girl from the portraits.

Erik dragged her from the water and up the stairs to the main room. His voice echoed out loudly. "Hounded out by everyone, met with hatred everywhere, no kind words from anyone, no compassion anywhere," Christine struggled against him, but his strength overpowered hers by tenfold. He turned her to face him and gripped her shoulders. She was visibly shaking. His voice nearly cracked as he shook her shoulders. "Christine...Christine, why? Why?!"

He spun her then to face the alcove they stood next to. But instead of the Moroccan lanterns and pillows that usually filled the space, there was a mannequin that looked exactly like Christine, dressed in a wedding gown and veil. Christine looked as if she was going to throw up. Erik's malevolent expression was unchanging. He stripped the gown from the doll and shoved it into Christines's arms. "Go." Slowly, she turned towards Marjorie. Their eyes seemed to lock, but Christine's eyes fell away as she stepped into the room, walking right past her. She couldn't even see her.

Marjorie returned her gaze to Erik. He looked like a ghost as he pulled off his jacket and vest. He stepped towards the organ slowly and sank down onto the seat. She couldn't read his expression at all. He reached into his pocket carefully and pulled out a ring. It was stunning, the most beautiful she had ever seen, but Erik's hands shook when he held it. His anger seemed to fall into sadness.

Almost silently, Christine stepped from the swan room, the white dress replacing the salmon one. Erik and I both seemed to jump when she spoke out, her voice rattling. "Have you gorged yourself at last in your lust for blood? Am I now to be prey to your lust for flesh?"

His anger returned at full force when he turned to look at her. "This face which condemns me to wallow in blood," He stood from the bench and loomed over her. "Has also denied me the joys of the flesh." He reached out to stroke her cheek, but she turned away, a look of disgust plastered on her face. "This face the infection that poisons our love..." She turned to look at him again, a hint of sadness on her face.

He turned and pulled the veil from the mannequin. His voice cracked slightly. "This face which earned a mother's fear and loathing... A mask, my first, unfeeling scrap of clothing... Pity comes too late, turn around and face your fate!" He shoved the veil onto her head and jerked her shoulders so they were facing each other once again. His face was twisted into a look of anguish and hatred. "An eternity of _this_ before your eyes..." His voice drifted off at the end, his expression faltering. He placed the ring and folded her fingers over it.

Slowly, Christine stepped away, towards one of the mirros that sat against the wall. Gently, her pale hand reached up and pulled down the fabric covering it. "This haunted face holds no horror for me now, it's in your soul that the true distortion lies." His eyes fell shut as he took in her words. Marjorie wanted to hug him. How could she be so cruel to him? But then again, Christine could have been right. He was violent, and selfish, more so than she had ever seen before. His eyes flicked open as he stared at the portcullis. A man she recognized as the Vicomte stood behind the gate.

"Wait, I think my dear, we have a guest."

"Raoul!" Her hand flew up to her mouth as she stared at him in horror.

"Sir, this is indeed and unparalleled delight." Erik sauntered over towards Christine, not taking his eyes off of Raoul. "Now, my wish comes true,you have truly made my night." He wrapped his arm around Christine's shoulder and pinned her against him.

"Let me go!"

"Free her! Do what you like, only free her, have you no pity?" Raoul groped out through the grate for Christine who stood across the lake.

"Your lover makes a passionate plea."

"Please, Raoul, it's useless."

"I love her, does that mean nothing? I love her! Show some compassion!"

Erik stomped his foot in anger, looking somewhat like a child. He gestured to his face. "The world showed no compassion to me!"

"Christine, Christine! Let me see her!"

"Be my guest, sir." Erik pulled a lever and the portcullis began to rise. He stepped down the stairs and into the water, towards the Vicomte. I noticed him kick an underwater lever and the portcullis began to lower again. "Monsieur I bid you welcome, did you think that I would harm her? Why would I make her pay for the sins which are yours?" In an instant, he threw a noose around his neck and pulled it tightly. I gasped, and Christine let out a yell. Erik's anger seemed to reach its peak as he tied Raoul's wrists to the gate. he tightened the noose on his neck. "Order your fine horses now, raise up your hand to the level of your eye, nothing can save you now, except perhaps, Christine."

Erik's gaze retuned to Christine, who stood at the waters edge, her mouth open in shock. "Start a new life with me, buy his freedom with your love, refuse me and you send your lover to his death. This is the choice. This is the point of no return!" He tightened the noose and Raoul let out a strained groan.

Christine seemed to take in the situation slowly, tears streaming down her face. "The tears I might have shed for your dark fate grow cold and turn to tears of _hate_!" She spit the words at him, her whole body shaking. Marjorie was actually surprised at her ability to stand up against him. She loved Erik, but she could comprehend what he was doing.

"Christine, forgive me, please forgive me." Raoul had tears running down his face which was continuing to redden. "I did it all for you and all for nothing."

Marjorie couldn't pull her gaze from Christine as the yelling went on. It all turned into a dull roar. She couldn't have been more than seventeen, her eyes never leaving Raoul. What had Erik done to this poor girl? Marjorie was beginning to understand the fear she had seen on her face in the graveyard.

Erik's voice pulled her gaze away. "So do you end your days with me, or do you send him to his grave?" He pulled the noose even tighter. What happened to kind, sweet Erik? The man before her was a monster.

"Why make her lie to you to save me?"

Christine's voice rang out suddenly, a song she had heard Erik playing once before. Christine attempted to plead with him. "Angel of music..."

Erik joined in on the singing, their voices harmonizing perfectly. "Past the point of no return..."

"For pity's sake Christine! Say no!"

"Who deserves this?"

"The final threshold..."

"Don't throw your life away for my sake!"

Christine was shaking violently. "Why do you curse mercy?"

"His life is now the prize which you must earn!"

"I fought so hard to free you..." Raoul's voice made Marjorie's heart ache.

"You've past the point of no return!"

"Angel of music, you deceived me." Christine stared at Erik, she looked completely hurt. "I gave you my mind blindly."

Erik spoke through clenched teeth, his expression a hard glare. He continued to grip the rope, pulling it tight. "You try my patience. Make your choice."

Slowly, Christine stepped into the water and began to walk towards Erik. "Pitiful creature of darkness. What kind of like have you known? God give me courage to show you, you are not alone." Then she pulled Erik into a kiss. He stared at her, his eyes wide, as she moved her lips against his. Jealousy seared through Marjorie. Even though she had seen Erik's monster, she couldn't help but feel a seething anger towards Christine.

The kiss broke and Erik's hands had fallen slack on the rope. Tears streamed down Rapuls face as he watched his lover kiss another man. Marjorie felt nothing but sympathy for him. Christine pressed her lips into his in a second kiss and Erik's eyes fell shut. Voices began to bounce off the walls, a mob crying out for a murderer, animal, and phantom. Erik was the first to pull away. A sob ripped from his throat. She wanted to run across the lake an hold him. The voices continued to grow louder. He walked towards Raoul slowly.

His hands shook as he pulled the rope from the Vicomte's neck and untied his hands. He dropped the ropes and stepped away slowly. "Take her, forget me. Forget all of this. Leave me alone. Forget all you've seen. Go now, don't let them find you." Erik continued to step back, reaching the edge of the lake. "Take the boat. Swear to me never to tell of the secret you know of the angel in hell."

The couple had already gone, the mob growing increasingly louder. "Go now! Go now and leave me!" Erik was on his knees now, tears streaming down his face. He was completely shattered. Slowly, he made his way to the swan room. Marjorie followed close behind, the mob getting ever louder. Erik at on his knees in front of a papier mâché monkey music box. He wound the key and it began to play a tinkling melody. His voice cracked as he began to sing. _"Masquerade, paper faces of parade. Hide your face so the world will never find you..." _He covered the monkey's face. His body shook as he let out a ragged sob.

Slowly, Marjorie walked over to him and knelt next to him. She attempted to wrap her arms around him, but they fell right through his body. His body continued to shake with sobs. Soft footsteps approached from behind them. They both turned to see Christine standing there. Erik stood shakily and stood in front of her. "Christine. I love you."

Christine stepped towards Erik, tears flowing down her cheeks. She held out her hands to him and-

* * *

Marjorie woke up to her shoulders being shook. Marc leaned over her, a smile on his face. "Wake up, Mars. We're in Aix. Our carriage is waiting."

She blinked and looked around. She was on the train, which sat motionless at the station. Was it only a dream? Slowly, she sat up and gathered her things. The opera was hundreds of miles away, it had to have been a dream. She followed Marc and Celine off of the train. They talked happily while she still couldn't shake the dream. It felt so horribly real. What did the mob mean by murderer? And what happened with Christine? Marjorie wasn't sure if she was coming back for Erik or not, either. But she did know that something had happened after the dream ended, and she could miles between her and Erik.


End file.
